


Sugar and Spice

by sugarsugarskull



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alpha Victor Nikiforov, Alpha Yuri Plisetsky, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst with a Happy Ending, Beta Otabek Altin, Fluffy Domesticity, M/M, Mpreg, Multi, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Katsuki Yuuri, Past Domestic Violence, Poly Relationship, Polyamory, Slow Burn, but also sexy sexy....eventually, fluffy fluffy fluffy, i guess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-10
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2019-06-25 12:56:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 32,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15641196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugarsugarskull/pseuds/sugarsugarskull
Summary: The harsh fluorescents in the bathroom threw his bruises into stark relief, Yuuri touched his mirror self’s face, purple and green pools of color from jaw to temple and spreading under his eye.Fuck Ben. More tears spilled from him and impatient with himself, Yuuri dashed away the tears. “Enough!” He told himself, “Enough. Why are you crying?”“Because you stayed so long. Because you’re stupid.” Yuuri answered himself. “It took the biggest mistake of your life to leave.”Then he felt ashamed. This didn’t have to be a mistake, it was simply a push into a different direction. It was a trigger. Yuuri licked his lips and bent to drink straight out of the faucet and to wet his face. When he straightened, Yuuri stripped off his shirt to dry his face. Slowly, he traced his stomach.It was too soon of course, he wouldn’t show for a few more weeks. And even then it would be small, nothing really. Only he would notice the slow changes.“I’m sure you’ll get fat though,” said Yuuri to his mirror self and smiled in pleasure. “It’ll be great.”With that he went to bed and even slept through his alarm in the morning.





	1. Intro

Quick crash course into this specific ABO world.

Alpha: Can only impregnate others. Go through ruts. Want to rut somewhere familiar, need familiar scents to feel comfortable.

Beta: Can only be impregnated. Go through heats. They need to nest somewhere they feel safe, don't need scents to nest comfortably.

Omega: Can be impregnated or impregnate others. Can go through heats or ruts depending on their partner or their specific hormone make up.

 

When a baby is born their secondary gender is already known because of their genitals. Their presenting gender, how they look, isn't decided or even inflexible. it's common to address someone neutrally, especially strangers, until told otherwise or unless there's prior knowledge of someone's preference. It's a BIG social faux pas to assume how someone wishes to be addressed, unless the intent is to be rude. Someone like Viktor who is well known and has been known to dress very feminine will still be referred to as 'he' by everyone, even strangers because he's famous and it's a well documented fact that is how he wishes to be addressed. On the other hand, Yuuri isn't as well known and although he dresses almost exclusively in men's clothes will be addressed neutrally by strangers until told otherwise. Mister/Miss/Messer are the most common ways to speak to refer to someone if their name is unknown.

Alphas and betas are most common, but omegas aren't rare either.

Bonding bites aren't permanent and can include more than one person. Although bites aren't permanent they can last for a long time depending on how deep the emotional bond is and how deep the bite is. There are other factors too. Bonds transmit emotions, the closer two people are the more specific the emotions are. Distance doesn't affect bonds. Although a person can't force a bond to disappear, they can put up a mental block between themselves and the other person. It's rarely consistent enough to be a true relief. Bonds can be placed on the neck, the wrists, and thigh joints.

Packs can form without it being sexual or romantic but it's more common for it to progress there. Pack members try very hard to live in one space or in spaces very near one another. Packs form around one central person and add members based on that one person.

Okay, I think that's it!

:)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)

Minako had instructed him to remain quiet, but sitting in front of Lilia Baranovskaya, facing down his last chance at saving both his career and dignity, Yuuri had no choice.

“Excuse me,” said Yuuri politely, clutching at his knees in a death grip under the desk, “but there’s really no point in judging my ability on just my past work. Those designs are old.”

Over a year old, to be exact.

“And where,” said Lilia, turning her glittering eyes onto him, “Are your more recent designs.”

Minako shifted her gaze to Yuuri, lips thinning slightly.

Yuuri gulped, took a steadying breath, “Probably in the trash.”

Lilia tapped her chin, “Explain.” Her gaze swept over his face. On this occasion, Minako had made Yuuri put on his make up badly.  And although it had speared his pride to do so, Yuuri had caked on his foundation and drawn heavy concealer under his right eye to hide the bruises littering the right side of his face.

Yuuri glanced at Minako for a second before nodding at Lilia. “I’ll tell you everything, but on one condition.”

Arching a perfectly waxed eyebrow Lilia tipped her head to the side, “I didn’t realize you were in a position to bargain.”

“The condition is to maintain what you hear in utter confidentiality,” said Minako coldly, “Not a syllable of this is to leave the office.”

That seemed to pique Lilia’s interest. “Since your past works are intriguing and I would like to consider fostering such a talent, very well. Continue.”

Yuuri blushed at the praise, not expecting a shred of compassion. Instead of giving Lilia the pathetic excuses he and Minako had come up with, Yuuri took a deep breath and decided on the truth. “I got into fashion because of this magazine. Well,” Yuuri gave a sheepish grin when Minako snorted, “and because of Nikiforov too. The _point_ is that—” Yuuri turned towards the wall that held select covers and articles featuring Lilia’s past works. “I love it because it doesn’t last at all. Art never does, huh? It’s so beautiful and yet…” Yuuri smiled brightly, “Yet I can’t help but wonder if I _could_ make it last forever.”

...

...

They stepped out of the studio into a strong spring shower, Yuuri’s head was buzzing with all of Lilia’s commands.

“How do you feel?” Minako broke the silence, making sure their umbrella covered them both. She slung an arm around him and her dark, earthy scent was a punch to the gut. It was home and family for Yuuri.

“Like I just survived a tsunami,” admitted Yuuri, “I don’t know if that was awful or amazing. Did you really have to tell her about—”

Minako rolled her eyes, cutting him off, “Yes! For the last time, _yes_ it was necessary! I’m not leaving you in Russia to fend for yourself.”

For most of the cab ride Yuuri simply held Minako’s hand, occasionally their eyes would meet and Minako would sigh, gently cupping Yuuri’s face.

“Are the bruises visible?”

“No. I just missed you.”

 Minako’s house was in an upscale residential neighborhood near a plaza and a canal. “Don’t leave,” instructed Minako to their cab, “I still need a ride to the airport.”

“Sure,” said the man, “I’m not doing anything else.”

Minako rolled her eyes and tugged Yuuri through the garden, she pointed out the tiny overhang with chairs and a spindly table. “Great for coffee in the morning. Or night.”

“Hah.”

Inside, Minako gave him a brief tour: kitchen, living room, dining room, sitting room, guest bedroom and bathroom. “I don’t need such a big house,” protested Yuuri.

“Well then you’ll be house-sitting for me until I can get back to sell it, then we can find you a nice cramped apartment.”

Yuuri sighed as Minako blew through the second floor: office, a second guest bedroom, the master bedroom with attached bathroom, prowl room—

“Although for you it would become a nest room, huh?”

Yuuri looking at his feet.

“Hey. Look at me, pup.”

Yuuri did, dragging his gaze up.

“First of all, call Mari. Second, _Yuuri—_ ”

Yuuri had looked away. “Yes?”

Minako grimaced at his tone, she gripped his chin. “Don’t ‘Yes’ me, young man. I’ve left the important papers you’ll need in the safe in the office. Let’s go back downstairs, I want to show you the basement.”

The whole tour took less than ten minutes, and it gave Yuuri a headache.

“So, any questions?” Minako stood in the front door, gripping her huge suitcase and backpack. Both were packed tightly for her trip. “I’ll be back before you know it. And you’ll try to scam my house out from under me.” She gave him a knowing look that made Yuuri bristle.

She laughed and kissed both his cheeks. “Make friends Yuuri, you’re beautiful and funny.”

“I’ll try, Minako-sensei. Because you’ve helped me—”

“Because I _love_ you, you mean.”

Yuuri swallowed hard, looking away, “Yes. That too. I know sometimes I get stuck. If you think it’s okay for me to go out and make friends—”

“Of course, it is! You _need_ friends.”

Now Yuuri lifted his face voluntarily to meet her warm brown eyes, a shade lighter than his own. “I’m scared,” he said simply, “I’m scared I don’t know how to tell if someone is really my friend. Or if they’ll turn out like Ben.”

“You have great friends already,” said Minako patiently, knowing Yuuri was serious, “Think of Phichit or Yuko. Even Takeshi is a great example of a friend, for all his teasing. Let’s see. . .”

Yuuri chuckled, “Alright. Maybe I _do_ know what a friend is.”

“You need to have more confidence in yourself,” said Minako firmly, gripping his shoulder, “You get to decide your own future and what that looks like.” She looked deep into his eyes and Yuuri took a slow breath in, understanding Minako meant no matter what he decided about his situation, she would be there to support him.

“I wish you were my mom instead,” whispered Yuuri.

Minako held her arms out, “No need to ask me. I’m yours.”

“Please,” said Yuuri, stepping into her arms.

They stood like that for a long time, with Yuuri burying his nose into her neck, breathing deeply, trying to memorize her scent again.

The cab driver honked his horn, Minako gave him one last kiss and said, “Don’t forget to set your alarm for tomorrow!” She ran out of the garden and shoved both her suitcase and backpack into the back seat.

“He looks sad,” commented the driver.

“My son’s going through a hard patch,” said Minako grimly as she slid into the front seat, “But he’s stubborn, he’ll make it.”

...

...

The next morning Yuuri was ready to rush out the house and catch a cab to Lilia’s studio, except he received a message that a car was to pick him up.

Knees shaking and desperately trying to clean his glasses before the car pulled up, Yuuri wondered if this was how Lilia would act every morning. A personal chauffeur? Good grief.

Lilia greeted him with an appraising look, lips disapproving at the obviously borrowed clothes Yuuri was wearing. She motioned to a young woman sitting next to Yuuri. “Mila will be with me for most of the morning while we are at Feltsman’s, but she wishes to shadow you during the afternoon. After that we’ll go to dinner.”

Yuuri gave Lilia’s assistant, a stylish young woman with bobbed red hair, a startled look. He didn’t _want_ anyone looking over his shoulder, but how could he deny Lilia anything?

“Of course it’s no problem. But what am I doing at Feltsman’s? I thought—”

“I do think your previous work has merit,” said Lilia, “But this new environment may give you different opportunities. Spend the time wisely.”

Bewildered, Yuuri could only nod along. “Uhm, sure.”

“I’m so happy you agreed. Your _Whimsy_ spread for BiBi is one of my absolute _favorites_.”

“I didn’t realize you _knew_ of my work,” squeaked Yuuri. Both Lilia and Mila gave him a strange look, Lilia sighed and looked away, frowning slightly. Then Yuuri remembered BiBi was a popular art/ fashion magazine in Russia, _of course_ Mila would know of it. “Sorry, I’m just not used to people recognizing me. Usually people don’t think to associate me with _that_ Yuuri Katsuki.” Yuuri forced a sharp laugh, “I guess I’m underwhelming in person.”

Mila took in Yuuri’s delicate make up, and his big doe eyes. Sure, Yuuri wasn’t striking on first glance but he had a great personality.

“You’re selling yourself short,” said Mila, “You have great charisma.”

“Lie to me again and I’ll revoke your rights to follow me around,” said Yuuri tartly. He was aware he wasn’t _ugly_ but calling him charismatic felt like a back-handed compliment. He might be cute, but charisma was reserved for the likes of Viktor Nikiforov.

“You were discussing _Whimsy_ ,” murmured Lilia, a smirk breaking the tension, “While I agree that your people skills need work, Mila isn’t incorrect either.”

Yuuri flushed, fidgeting with his bag. “Yes, Madame.”

“Do you think you’ll ever make something like _Whimsy_ again?” Mila tapped his knee to bring his attention back.

“Uh no. It was a strange time in my life, lots of things came together just right for it to happen. Besides, why would I want it to? I’ve grown past that. . .That.” Yuuri wasn’t about to explain that he’d taken out his teenage angst and orneriness out on the world through that photo exhibition.

Now Lilia returned to him, smiling tightly, “A good answer. It’s best to let your old self burn.”

Burn? That was dramatic. “I guess it’s just a reflection of who I used to be.” Yuuri shrugged. “I hope other people see it the same way.”

“I know of a few people who’ve tried to imitate _Whimsy_ and failed miserably. Do you know Plisetsky—”

“Mila,” said Lilia in rebuke, but there was a tiny glimmer in her eyes, “That’s when I signed Plisetsky, because Yakov couldn’t guide the boy,” she explained to Yuuri.

Yuuri remembered when that fiasco broke news across the fashion industry. “Wait. . . _Wait_. Was Plisetsky’s faery spread supposed to be a tribute to _Whimsy_?”

Lilia smiled revealing she had laugh lines around her eyes. Incredible. Yuuri’s fingers itched to capture it.

“Oh _no_.”

“You see why he fled from Yakov’s arms to mine.”

“I mean no disrespect,” said Yuuri, “But _Fae’s Nightmare_ was categorically awful. I’m,” Yuuri searched for the right word, “ashamed if my _Whimsy_ was the inspiration.”

Mila clutched her bag, obviously trying not to burst out laughing. Lilia waved Yuuri off.

“Plisetsky was a boy at the time and Yakov thought it would be a good idea to let him loose, thinking Plisetsky was the next Viktor Nikiforov.”

Yuuri snorted and Lillia nodded.

“Under my tutelage Plisetsky has realized that there should be a filter between what is made and what is thought.”

“ _Hah!_ ” Yuuri slapped a hand over his mouth. “Sorry,” he said in a small voice. “I haven’t seen any new productions by Plisetsky, not recently at least. And Vi- Uh, Nikiforov hasn’t made something in a decade.”

Lilia’s smile evaporated and turned away, “Indeed. It’s something that’s troubled both Yakov and myself. We’ve had quite a few meetings over it.”

“Why not let this Yuuri create a produc—”

 “ _No_.”

Both Mila and Lilia looked startled at his outburst, but Yuuri was dismayed at seeing Lilia frown again.

She tapped an elegant finger on her own arm, “Didn’t Madam Okukawa say that you—"

“I have too much to worry about right now,” said Yuuri in a tight voice, words edging on rude.

The rest of the car ride was silent, Yuuri trying not to burst out crying. His first full day of work and he’d already fucked it up.

...

...

“You realize,” said Yuri while carefully not moving his lips too much, “that this is the dumbest thing I’ve ever worn?”

“While it might feel strange, I can assure you that you look stunning.” Otabek waited until the make-up artist was done fixing the gold leaf on Yuri’s face before nudging Yuri’s chin a bit lower. More people approached to mess with the gold foil along his arms and his chest.

Yuri briefly closed his eyes, inhaling and exhaling deeply. “Fine.”

“Try to relax,” murmured Otabek, coming closer, “Do you see anything beyond the set that interests you?”

Yuri squinted against the harsh lights, “I can hardly see anything,” he complained, “I’m starting to sweat.”

Otabek still held his chin, gently swiping his thumb along the ridge of bone. He motioned to someone and suddenly the lights dimmed drastically.

“Thank you,” grumbled Yuri and Otabek smiled, releasing him.

Now Yuri could see beyond the set, he saw some friendly faces while others were strange and hungry. In one corner of the room was Mila Babicheva of all fucking people, Yuri almost spat onto the floor, but Otabek was suddenly there, “Your scent changed.”

“Mila’s here,” growled Yuri, “And I don’t know why.”

“She’s probably waiting for Lilia. I heard Viktor was supposed to be doing a photoshoot today but backed out.”

“Heh, so he’s probably being chewed out.” Yuri looked pleased for a second then chewed on his lip. “Viktor’s been worse lately.”

“Hm.”

“Someone’s with her,” said Yuri, squinting and making the make-up artist hiss. Mila was standing over a man working on a large sketchbook, it looked uncomfortable, the way he hunched over his own knees. A large group of people were starting to crowd the artist and Mila, clearly excited.

“We’re ready,” murmured Otabek, “We only need a few poses and then you can go play with Mila.”

Yuri would have snarled at him if it wouldn’t have ruined his make up.

Twenty minutes later Yuri hopped off the throne he’d been lounging on, “I want to go outside to eat lunch.”

“Sure,” said Otabek, “Go clean up while I look through the pictures.”

Yuri nodded and walked away, still gilded. If Otabek had let him, he’d walk out of the building like that too. He approached Mila, but the artist had disappeared. “Hey Baba, what are you doing here?”

Mila smiled slyly, “I’m showing Yuuri Katsuki around.” She looked around and frowned, “But I’ve lost him. . .”

“ _What?_ That was him?”

Mila laughed in his face. “Yes! We talked about _Fae’s Nightmare_. He had strong opinions about it.”

Yuri steamed up, his face reddening. “Well what the fuck does _he_ know?” snarled Yuri, sweating under his make up, he could feel the gold foil sliding off his face. “It’s not like he’s produced a single good thing in _years_ , not even a fucking perfume commercial. He’s probably already moved on to something like interior design or whatever.”

Mila’s smile slid off her face, “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I was just teasing. . .”

“I don’t give a fuck. Is that why Katsuki is here right now? To work with Viktor?”

“Well—”

“Never mind,” said Yuri, trying to calm himself down, “It’s not like I give a fuck about Katsuki anyway.”

“Oh. . . I thought for sure you’d want to meet him.” Mila bit her lip, her face falling. She hadn’t known Yuri would be so upset about _Fae’s Nightmare._

“Maybe if he wasn’t washed out,” said Yuri coolly, “Anyway, I’m going to lunch with Beka. Come with us.”

“Sorry Kitten, but Lilia is eating at Reese’s today.” She didn’t mention Yuuri would be eating with them, she’d done enough damage for one day.

Yuri shrugged, “Alright. Later Baba.”

“Oh, are we still going to the jazz festival this weekend?”

“Yeah, Beka’s excited about it.”

“Then. . .I’m inviting Katsuki too, he needs to make more friends besides me.”

Yuri almost told her to not invite Katsuki but. . . “Fine. I don’t care.” Yuri walked away and headed for the locker rooms.

There was steam in the air when Yuri entered, signaling that someone had used the showers recently, probably Georgi. There were also several different scents mixing with it, making Yuri’s eyes clench shut.

“Fucking stinks in here—huh?” He heard weeping coming from the toilets. Curious, Yuri crept closer and saw ripped pages littering the wet floor. Yuri picked one up and froze.

It was _him_ , taken to a higher plane where neither fear nor anger could reach. Yuri touched his own face on the paper, lounging on a throne almost naked except for strategically draped linens. Yuri gulped. His face was different though, calm and commanding, the sketch radiated power.

The sound of a lock sliding startled Yuri, he hadn’t noticed when the crying had stopped.

“ _You!_ ” snarled Yuri, slapping the drawing of himself onto a counter.

Yuuri Katsuki, eyes puffy and red, lurched towards the sink. Upon hearing his name, Yuuri turned, already cringing at Yuri’s harsh tone.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Before Yuri could stop himself, he stalked forward into Katsuki’s space, “Who the _hell_ do you think you are? You can’t just waltz in here like you own the fucking place!” Yuri took another step, Katsuki retreating in step, but his arm slid on the wet counter, pitching him backwards onto his butt. Katsuki landed with a yelp, scrambling back to cower against the wall.

“We don’t need you or your shitty work or your shitty opinions!” snarled Yuri, snatching up a random sketch to throw it in Katsuki’s face. “Whatever you’re doing here—Fuck off!”

Katsuki cried out, throwing his hand up as a shield. “Please. . .” He whispered.

Seeing his idol on the floor, weeping and begging, fueled Yuri’s own rage, “Do you think I’d actually lay a hand on you? I’m not _pathetic_. You know what is? Your _work_. How dare you show your face around here? You’re _useless and a washout._ ”

Katsuki was trembling so hard that Yuri could taste the rotted scent of Katsuki’s fear, it disgusted him. Whether Katsuki disgusted him or the disgust lay in himself for reacting for strongly. . .

While he was distracted, Katsuki leapt to his feet, shoving past Yuri to bolt for the door, hand pressed to his mouth to muffle his wracked sobbing.

......

.......

The apartment was quiet save for the steady beat of a bass rolling through the rooms. That and the recent yet heavy scent of another alpha told Viktor that his flatmate was home. Otabek was probably here too. Viktor could practically feel every thump of the music through the floorboards as he made his way to the kitchen.

No wonder their downstairs neighbors hated them.

The meeting with Lilia and Yakov hadn’t gone well, they’d mostly talked and scolded him while Viktor had zoned out, not bothering to pay attention to how he was throwing his career away and ruining his public image—blah blah _blah._

“Makkachin? Oh hello sweetest!” Viktor knelt to receive a faceful of fur, he laughed and hugged her tightly before letting her go. “Do you hunger, Makka?”

Makkachin pranced around him, bowing and barking excitedly while Viktor continued to coo at her and rile her up. Eventually he got up from the floor to feed Makkachin, fresh meat mixed with some unsalted rice and several different types of veg.

It was the least Viktor could do since the only company she had was the dog walker during the whole day. He left the bowl of food in its usual place and then went to relax in the living room.

Except the living room was a mess, scattered pages of drawings and doodles all around. There were easily twenty or thirty individual pages, some of which were in pieces.

Had Yuri tried his hand at designing again?

Viktor picked his way through the scattered mess to the coffee table where several sketches were laid out. He dropped to his knees upon catching sight of a figure laid out on a throne.

“Yuri?”

The resemblance was beautiful, those same sharp eyes and unforgiving mouth, but the artist had added maturity to the countenance. The Yuri in the sketch was accustomed to being a king. The severity was softened by the lounging pose and the draped linens, flowers and vines stitched into the folds and shadows. It made the whole piece somber.

Viktor could feel lightning in the background and the drums of war beating out of the page, Viktor’s heartbeat ticked up a few notches.

With difficulty he looked at another sketch and laughed, a cartoonish parade of poodles and huskies. There were also sinuous cats tucked amongst the canines.

The next page revealed a grotesque version of Odile with goose’s teeth and broken knees, but the accompanying Odette was even more frightening. She wore bloody feathers with one eye irreparably marred, her limbs coiled tight with unused kinetic energy.

Although this sketch was static, Viktor’s own knees ached from Odette’s deep bend. Eagerly, Viktor searched for what should have been the accompanying prince but all he found was a page full of angry scratched out scrawl, dark dark strokes meant to destroy the picture underneath.

The next page was a detailed picture of a hamster wearing sunglasses.

Viktor’s smile quieted with the next page. A quick jungle sketch, at first innocuous but on closer inspection a naked figure is crouched within the shadows, staring up at Viktor. Violence lay in the restrained set of lips, a knife gripped tight in the figure’s hand, muscles bunched up under the smooth, hairless skin; the figure had been waiting for its prey.

Viktor swallowed at realizing _he_ was the prey.

“Hey, I didn’t hear you come in. Makkachin’s gonna get fat if you keep feeding her after I’ve already done it.”

“These aren’t yours, are they.” It wasn’t a question, but Viktor needed to check. He turned around.

“Do I look like I would draw stupid fucking hamsters?”

Viktor looked up at Yuri, “So. . .?”

With a shake of his head Yuri shrugged, “Yuuri Katsuki. He’s a washed-out designer.”

Viktor wracked his memory, “Didn’t you . . . I thought that was the guy you were always talking about? I thought you loved his work. Don’t you have a poster or five?” Viktor almost teased him about having a crush but stopped at Yuri’s flat expression.

“That was before I found out he’s given up. Mila’s told me Katsuki’s here in Russia to do menial labor for Lilia. Apparently he also considered selling out to some American department store.”

Viktor pulled out the sketch of Yuri, brandishing it in front of the younger alpha’s face.

“You need glasses if you think this is what giving up looks like.”

“Hey, Viktor.” The beta slid into the room, bumping Yuri’s shoulder before going to collapse on the plush sofa in the corner.

“Ah, Otabek. Have you seen these? Yura says—”

“He hasn’t stopped talking about Katsuki the whole day,” said Otabek tiredly, making Viktor grin in triumph.

“Both of you are delusional if you think I actually admire him still. You were _there_ Beka. He was pathetic!”

“He was in the office?!” Viktor cried out, hurriedly picking up more sketches, _maybe I can catch him still._

“Yes, but Yuri scared him away.” Otabek shook his head.

“I didn’t even _do anything_.”

Viktor stopped trying to gather the pages, “What happened?”

They both looked at Yuri who squirmed for only a second, “I yelled at him. But only a little. He was already crying when I got there so that wasn’t even _me_.”

Viktor sighed and Otabek clicked his tongue.

“It wasn’t _me_ ,” protested Yuri, his cheeks growing dark.

“I guess I could try to talk to him tomorrow.” Viktor frowned at a water-logged page, the sketch had been of an elegant woman running down a street, but whatever emotion Katsuki had wanted to showcase was lost.

“If you haven’t eaten dinner,” said Otabek, “Yura and I were going to pick up some burgers.”

“Yeah, that’s fine. Can I get sweet potato fries?”

“Yes Viktor,” said Yuri with exaggerated patience, “We know. And you want them extra crispy. And you want that with a pineapple shake. Oh, but could you not add _too_ much syrup because it makes you nauseous. We’re not stupid.”

“Well,” said Viktor mildly, “I wasn’t the one who screamed at my idol-slash-crush.”

“I didn’t—Argh!” Yuri stomped away.

“He yells at _you_ all the time though,” quipped Otabek.

“Oh hush.” Viktor waved him away and went back to looking at the sketches.

Eventually he started doing research on Yuuri Katsuki in earnest, mentally kicking himself for never listening to Yuri’s ranting about the man.

He should have known that someone who inspired Yuri Plisetsky had to be special. To be fair, _Fae’s Nightmare_ had been ridiculous and maybe that’s why Viktor had never put much stock in Yuri’s idol?

It was almost an hour later when Yuri and Otabek came back, laden with too much food.

“Hey, Yura—oh thank you, yum!—which production of Katsuki’s inspired _Fae_?”

Yuri snarled at him, making the hackles on Viktor’s neck stand up.

“I believe it was _Whimsy_ ,” replied Otabek when Yuri had stalked away.

“Thanks,” Viktor rubbed his neck, grimacing when the stiff hair on his nape refused to lay back down. “I hate when he does that.”

“Can you imagine being cornered and yelled at? No wonder Katsuki ran away.” Otabek tried scratching at his neck to make his own hair lay back down.

“According to his online profile Katsuki’s an omega, so Yuri’s probably bigger than him too. Poor man must have been terrified.”

“I didn’t know that. . .We’ll talk with him once he isn’t so angry at himself for yelling at Katsuki.”

Viktor typed away on his computer but motioned for Otabek to sit next to him. “Have you seen _Whimsy?_ ”

“Yes. I won’t spoil it for you but whoever did the camerawork is a goddamned genius.”

Viktor was even more intrigued. “About Yuri. . . I think we should talk to him _now_. He’s gotten better with his temper but he’s got to learn that there are more important things than his ego.”

Beka shrugged, “He’s your flatmate.”

“He’s your best friend,” shot back Viktor before quieting down. He pulled up Katsuki’s professional page, not even hesitating to buy a subscription to the designer’s work. “Oh my god.” _Whimsy_ was beautiful.

Although the tagline read like a cheap horror story, _Come and disappear into the Circus that isn’t_ , the series of photographs all read as surreal horror. Which was perhaps the point.

What followed was a silent dance of acrobats, clowns, and people who _almost_ looked completely human. There was something unsettling about it though, the model’s expressions were too wide and their clothes a shade incorrect. The whole thing tasted of an experience shifted half a degree, Viktor’s breath quickened as if he were being chased. The photographs challenged the viewer to maintain their gaze and not flinch. Viktor couldn’t do it.

“I love him,” said Viktor.

“You. . .love the production?”

“Probably what I meant,” said Viktor distractedly. He scrolled through the rest of the photographs to the credits. Yuuri’s name appeared more than a handful of times, involved in everything from conceptual work-up, to clothing design and production, to camerawork and . . . catering? _What_ can’t _you do, darling?_

In his mind, Viktor had already bent the knee to Yuuri Katsuki, knowing that they would be working together. He quickly flipped back to the Katsuki’s website, more intrigued at the dark eyes staring up at him. Viktor flipped to Katsuki’s previous employer’s public Instagram, Yuuri appearing in photos for several years. There’s a really nice one of Yuuri wearing a gorgeous hot pink trench coat and grinning so broadly that Viktor can’t help but smile back.

“Viktor? Vitya?”

“Huh?” Viktor was startled out of his daydreams to find Yuri standing in front of him, looking guilty. “Sorry, I was lost in my thoughts. What is it Yura?”

Yuri shrugged, looking embarrassed.

“I’m going to head home,” said Otabek, “I have a flight to catch for Cape town.”

Both Viktor and Yuri bid him a safe flight and Yuri saw him to the door.

“So, about today. . .”

Yuri threw himself onto the couch and groaned, covering his face with a pillow, “I know. . .I fucked up.”

Viktor shut the laptop and sighed.

......

.....

Yuuri woke up even before his alarm, pawing for his phone. His eyes and mouth were scratchy but other than that, Yuuri had slept well. Getting yelled at really took it out of him. His phone chimes again, reminding him of his to-do list.

** To-do **

**-CALL MARI**

**-work!**

**-groceries**

**-Clothes?????**

**-clear out Minako’s sex toys :S**

He makes himself laugh at the bulletin list, innocuous except for the last one. He’d found the box last night and been mildly horrified at it. That box was the only reason Yuuri hadn’t spent the entire night crying, he was too weirded out by it.

Yuuri opened his messages to Minako.

 

 

_[You]:_ _Um. good morning I found your box of......toys. I don’t want to keep them in the house. What do I do?_

 

 

Minako must be on lunch because her answer is almost instant.

 

 

_[Minako-sensei]: Don’t be a prude, hide them in the basement. Just don’t use them._

 

 

If Yuuri could die, he would.

 

_[You]: M_ _inako-sensei._

_That is GROSS._

_[Minako-Sensei]:_ _Hehehe. Love you._

_[You]:_ _Love you too._

 

Despite the strange exchange, he settles back into bed feeling better, trying to work up his courage to call Mari. Idly he strips out of his baggy sleep shirt and runs his hands over his stomach. Then making an executive decision he strips out of his pants and curls onto his side, taking himself in hand.

It’s weird doing this alone. It’s weird doing it at all, he squeezes his cock, pulling a grunt deep from within himself. He’d forgotten how good it felt.

He’s forgotten so many things.

It takes a long time for his dick to get hard, mostly because he’s just idly exploring his own body and not looking for an orgasm, just relearning his angles and what feels good. He brushes by his hole to carefully run his fingers by his cunt. His breathing goes erratic but Yuuri doesn’t do more than tease himself, still weirded out by his situation.

“I’m an idiot,” he says to himself, “I should have been more careful. I should have been more. . .I should have been more.” He sighs and rolls off the bed to shower.

Minako had left behind most of her clothing which Yuuri stares at doubtfully. Should he? He hadn’t packed any of his own clothing when he’d left America, only bothering to throw in some of his drawing supplies, his electronics, and a few books Ben hadn’t gotten to yet. He has no other clothes except the ones Lilia had already seen him in.

He digs through Minako’s closet and finds some nice dark grey slacks and a blouse that isn’t too bright but has a neckline that plunges. Ben would have been furious. Yuuri’s toes curl in unexpected excitement.

He throws open every single curtain in the house, grabbing the box of sex toys to hide in the basement.

 _Then_ he calls Mari.

“U-uhm, good morning.”

There’s a few seconds of silence on the line and Yuuri’s sure his screen is going to crack from it.

“. . .I’ve missed your voice.”

Yuuri immediately started crying, collapsing back onto his bed and curling up. “I-I’m so—so—I’m sorry—” He hiccups and stammers even though he _knows_ what he wants to say.

He is alone, completely alone except for this single lifeline to his sister and Minako. There is no one else who wants him, who cares.

“Yuuri. . .it’s okay. Just let it out. I’m here, okay? Whenever you’re ready.” Mari kept up her soothing stream of words for him, anchoring him while Yuuri sobbed and screamed on the line.

Mari was frightened, she had _never_ heard so much anguish come from Yuuri, but she held on. “You’re okay Yuuri. Can you find a pillow? Hold on to it Yuuri, I’m here. You need to breathe into your hands, remember? I’m here. I’m here.”

 


	4. Chapter 4

Yuuri heaved and shuddered through the remnants of his fit. “Mari. . .” His voice was hoarse, everything moved in slow motion, the room pitched and yawed, forcing Yuuri to clench his eyes shut.

He had to tell her, he had to. . .

“Mari. I’m pregnant.”

Mari sucked in a breath. “Please tell me you are joking.”

Yuuri covered his face.

The silence was more pointed than any confirmation.

“Shit. I’m sorry. . . I just need some time to process.”

Yuuri sniffled.

“How far along are you?”

“Seven weeks.”

Mari paused for a second, “Congratulations?”

“No, don’t.” said Yuuri tightly, “Don’t congratulate me. Don’t pretend I’m not still a fuck up. That hasn’t changed.”

“I’m sorry.” Mari sounded like she was choking on her words, wishing she could find the right ones for Yuuri. Her finnicky, sensitive brother, constantly looking for signs of being slighted. If she asked the wrong thing Yuuri would shut her out and not call again for years. Again. “Um. How are you doing?”

Yuuri licked his lips, chest loosening. “Ah, I’m okay? I’m in Russia.”

“Oh, with Minako? That’s good then!”

“Y-yeah. How are you doing? Um, how’s your. . .girlfriend?”

Mari laughs at Yuuri’s awful awkwardness, at their combined awkwardness. “Don’t worry Yuuri, I won’t ask who knocked you up or why it happened.”

Yuuri sputters, dropping his phone and scrambling to pick it back up.  He’s confused and flustered, unsure of which part of that to refute first. “It was an _accident_. Anyway! How are mom and dad?”

Mari laughs, “Whatever you say, you pest. I’m alright, we’re flourishing now that I’m taking over more. Dad. . .Is dad. And mom is mom. Nothing has changed for them even as everything around us does. It’s been a challenge to bring the business into this century but we’re actually doing really well.

“I’m glad.”

Their good-byes are a little awkward, but they promise each other to call once a week and then Yuuri is left rushing to put his make up on before running out the door.

...

...

....

Viktor is vibrating with anticipation when they reach the spacious offices of Feltsman Couture. He has Yuuri Katsuki’s sketches tucked into a slim carton sheaf, he has a great speech planned out, he even has two or three projects that were ear marked for other teams, but that Viktor insisted Yakov give him. Him and Yuuri. Viktor bounces on his heels once before striking out for the open studios where photoshoots happened.

“So where was he working?” Viktor glances at Yuri expectantly.

“Katsuki?” Yuri asks as if either of them had talked of literally anything else _but_ Yuuri Katsuki the whole night.

“I was in studio C,” he said doubtfully, “He was with Mila so—”

“But you said Mila was just fan-girling over him,” said Viktor dismissively, “You should head to your next appointment, I don’t want you scaring Yuuri off. Don’t forget about our conditioning class today!” He watches Yuri stalk away, muttering under his breath about where Viktor could stick the conditioning class.

He starts his search cheerfully enough, chatting up a few techs and make-up artists.

When people start heading out for lunch, Viktor sighs and realizes that Katsuki might not be in the office today. If someone sees Katsuki they’ll for sure tell Viktor, he’s been obnoxious enough about it that everyone is aware of his search.

He suspends his search and goes with a very smug Yuri to the gym.

“Tomorrow,” he tells Yuri.

He repeats this to Makkachin that night, “Tomorrow I’ll find him.”

Viktor doesn’t find him Thursday or Friday or Saturday. He asks Yakov about this.

“I didn’t know _that’s_ who you were looking for,” said Yakov, “Katsuki is working with Lilia. If you wanted to find him you should have gone over to her store first. I think he left town with Lilia though, they are supposed to be doing a winter gear expos—"

“ _Yakov!_ ”

The grizzled alpha has the audacity to laugh. “I’ve never seen you quite so worked up. But more seriously, you’ve been holding three projects hostage. I need the extra ones back.”

Viktor starts sweating, if he chooses the wrong one. . .No. Yuuri and he can work through this. Viktor hands over the portfolios for two of the projects. He doesn’t even look at which ones, it’s in fate’s hands now.

“Don’t be so dramatic,” said Yakov, knowing _that_ look in Viktor’s eyes.

Viktor manages to reach the elevators without incident before a friendly curly-haired man hooks an arm around his neck and yanks him in, burying his nose into Viktor’s neck.

Viktor lets out a strangled growl while curly-head impudently continues to nuzzle into him.

“My, my,” purrs Christophe Giacometti, “ _This_ is certainly new. Chasing tail now, are we? But I can’t even _smell_ them on you.” Chris pouts, carefully pulling back.

“There isn’t anyone,” says Viktor, grumbling deep in his chest. He wraps an arm around Chris and pulls him into the elevator. “What even—”

“I’m here for work, dear one,” said Chris with a laugh, cuddling up to Viktor, “I contacted you _ages_ ago to schedule a lunch and night out on the town! You never responded.”

Viktor winced.

“You need to make it up to me,” said Chris, pouting. “Now spill, why do you smell like you’re coming off rut?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” said Viktor pleasantly, before quickly asking about Chris’ mate.

Immediately the beta smiles in pleasure, his cheeks stained pink. “They’re good. Loving as always. Come friend, lunch.” Chris leaves no room for Viktor to escape.

Reluctantly, Viktor allows himself to be dragged out of the building. _I guess Yuuri will have to wait one more day._

They sat down for a late lunch at a restaurant a few blocks away.

Chris peers at his friend softly but still scrutinizing him. “I heard this is your first time back in months. According to Otabek and Cao you’ve cancelled _all_ of your photoshoots until further notice.”

“I’ve needed a change. I haven’t felt inspired in a long time.” Viktor didn’t mention the long hours he’d spent curled up in bed, sleepless. Or the days he lost because he just zoned out, one day melting into another like drops of water into a lake.

“Well something brought you in today, I’d like to believe it was because you’d read my e-mail about visiting. . .”

He’d hardly spoken to Yuri in weeks before the Katsuki incident, much less checked his e-mail. Viktor shrugged helplessly.

“I also texted you. . .” said Chris testily.

Viktor winced, “I’ve been out of it.”

Chris shook his head. “Clearly. But isn’t it time to come back, Vik? We need you back, nothing is the same without you. I miss the drive you give me. Viktor Nikiforov is more than just a pretty face you know, he’s the whip.”

His heart plummeted at Chris’ cheeky response. _Whip._ . . Viktor forced a laugh. “That’s very aggressive.”

“It’s the truth. Without your successes none of us would have the drive to reach for more.” Chris smiles uncertainly at him, “You really are special you know. But remember you aren’t irreplaceable.”

Viktor grins broadly, “I just haven’t been feeling myself. But I’ve recently found a _great—”_

“Inspiration?!” At Viktor’s nod, Chris coos excitedly, “Excellent! Which is why you need to come back with me to Switzerland and work over there. Russia can be so _dreary_ and you’re looking terribly thin, dearest.”

 _Work work work._ It’s a pleasure and a vice for them both. Viktor crosses his foot onto his opposite knee. “You’re very kind but I don’t think so. Yakov would kill you and then chain me to his basement.”

“Kinky.”

Viktor shakes his head, “Please do _not_ do that to me, I can’t think of Yakov—” They both make sounds too high-pitched for grown men their size to make, although Chris has an excuse since he’s a beta.

“That’s on me,” said Chris, his cheeks pink, “I take full responsibility. Oh god, the _imagery._ ”

“I wish you could take it _back,”_ said Viktor resentfully, starting to laugh. Thinking of Yakov in a bdsm sexual way was _not_ how he wanted the day to go.

“I’ll make it up to you. I have tickets for a live rock show that Bas recommended to me tonight.”

“I. . . Oh fine.” Viktor supposed he could search for Yuuri Katsuki tomorrow. It wasn’t like the omega was a ghost after all.

“Great!” Chris clapped his hands, “But first we have to stop by Lilia’s and then we can go dress up, I have plenty of clothes and make up for both of us.”

Viktor sighed, unsure if he would regret this. He resisted Chris pulling him up by the arm, “On one condition, I’m serious Chris, please listen. I don’t want to drink.”

Chris pouted and frowned but finally agreed. “Wet blanket.”

.....

Lilia’s studio is a sprawling two story complex in an old neighborhood. The timelessness of the neighborhood and the age of the trees makes Viktor think of royalty, like stepping into a fairytale. The inside of Lilia’s studio is more modern, but the carpet and lighting remain rather antique.

While Chris runs off to find whatever package he was meant to pick up, Viktor wanders through the first floor, apprentices at their desks stare at him. Several people poke their heads out of proper offices, no one dares approach him.

Viktor glances idly at what people are working on, his gaze never lingering for more than a second before moving on.

Until he spies a familiar style of art peeking out from a huge stack of paperwork. His heart pounding, Viktor carefully slides the artwork out from the stack and breathes in relief.

It’s Yuuri K.’s unmistakable style. Dynamic movement with a message behind the pretty lines.

These kinds of sketches were usually devoid of _life_ , since the designer just focuses on making a beautiful piece of clothing, but Katsuki forgoes the more technical aspects in favor of creating a story.

Designing sets for Katsuki must be a _nightmare_ , Viktor’s toes curled in delight.

They can be nightmares together! Yakov is always calling Viktor a nightmare in his gruff, gravelly voice. Viktor feels he must look stupid making cow eyes at a sketch, but he can’t _help_ it. He wants to crow over this scrap of Yuuri. _Oh dear,_ thinks Viktor in delight, _I have a crush on him._

“Excuse me?”

Viktor turns, already smiling, at the small voice behind him. Viktor sucks in a sharp breath. Much like his art, Yuuri K. is meant to be experienced in person. Photos didn’t do justice to the delicate lines of his torso or the hard turn of his jaw. Interviews were a little better but _those_ didn’t incorporate the delicious scent that is Yuuri Katsuki.

Viktor puts the pilfered sketch down to rifle through his bag. “You are Messer Yuuri Katsuki, correct? Here. I wanted to bring them back to you in person and to also throw myself down at your feet.”

Yuuri has the largest doe eyes Viktor’s seen, more tender and vulnerable than in the videos where Katsuki is a sharp-tongued devil answering questions. Viktor takes another step forward, greedily sucking in Katsuki’s scent through his nose so he doesn’t look like he’s salivating. Oh no, is he salivating? Viktor swallows, surprised at how much spit had accumulated in his mouth.

A sour scent stops Viktor’s day-dreaming, it’s a rotten tone in Katsuki’s otherwise sweetness.

Yuuri is bonded.

It’s a sharp reprimand to the back of Viktor’s throat and his hind brain, yanking him back like a physical yoke

Viktor carefully does not panic.

“I need you,” insists Viktor, brandishing Katsuki’s sketches in the air, “If you’ll have me. These are yours right?”

Aware of how he looms over the omega by a few inches, Viktor scuttles back, laying the proffered sketchbook on Yuuri’s desk. Eyeing him warily, Yuuri flips open the folder, touching the sketch with surprise. “I threw these away.”

“My flatmate found them, I pieced it together and—” Viktor placed one hand on the corner of the assembled sketches while laying his other hand over his heart, “Your work inspired me. Truly.”

Katsuki stares at him in horror, “You must be mistaken.” Katsuki’s eyes rake him up and down, only slightly tinged with lurid interest. Viktor preens anyway, Katsuki is far too pretty to ignore.

“I’m Viktor Nikiforov,” boasts Viktor, “I’m _very rarely_ wrong about these kinds of things.”

“I know who you are,” said Katsuki, looking sick. He drops onto the desk chair, head dropping onto his hands.

Unsure of what he’d done, Viktor clasps his hands together, “You don’t like my work?” It was the only thing he could think of that would make Yuuri act like this.

Viktor grins when Yuuri gives him a _Look_ of derision.

“Then the problem is I’m being an ass. I’m sorry, I’ve been looking for you for _days_ and I couldn’t let you slip through my fingers.”

“How dramatic,” said Yuuri with a tiny smile, he drops it a second later along with his face onto the desk with a hollow ‘ _thunk’_.

“Messer Katsuki?”

“I’m fine.”

Viktor gives him a full thirty seconds to lie comatose before offering his phone to plug his number in. “You’ve seen the type of modelling I do. It’s bored me,” explained Viktor, “But your work is so refreshing and new and _innovative_. I want to create things now, not just sit pretty.”

Yuuri didn’t answer, just clenches his jaw. “I’ll call you.”

Viktor doesn’t like that hard look in Katsuki’s eyes. It doesn’t bode well for him. “Thank you.”

Maybe Viktor’s underestimated how nightmarish he truly is, so Yakov had been right? Viktor clears his throat. “Your work has inspired me,” repeated Viktor stubbornly, meeting Yuuri’s flat gaze, “I want to do something with your talent. Your clothing designs are so. . . uhm. . . unique?”

Something in that must click for Yuuri because he gives a little helpless laugh. “Sure. Why not? What other crazy things could happen? It’s only been a few days since the last one.” Yuuri looks like he’s on the verge of hysterics.

Yeah. . .

Viktor decides not to bring up the Yuri Plisetsky incident nor that Yuri P. is his roommate.

“Call me,” he insists, even as he makes his way to the door. He wants to leave before Christophe catches sight of him talking to Yuuri.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAAhhh!!!  
> Thank you for the nice notes!  
> I really do love them


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter Yuuri talks to his Dr about abortion.  
> I need to be perfectly clear that abortions do not kill babies.  
> Before 24/25 weeks of gestation, fetuses CANNOT live outside of the uterus. There is absolutely NO WAY for them to survive.  
> If a fetus is removed from their mother before week 30 there is a VERY high chance of them dying. Premature babies born at week 33/34/35 are VERY high risk and require months of intensive care.  
> In addition, whatever your opinion on what does/does not constitute a child doesn't matter unless you are the person making a decision to have or not have an abortion. It is a personal choice.  
> I have placed links to resources about pregnancy, birth control, and abortions in the end notes if you are interested.

That night after tumbling into bed Yuuri opened his contacts and called Minako, pressing his phone to his good cheek and squeezing his eyes shut.

“You were right.” His bed was soft and pungent with Minako’s scent, Yuuri burrowed deep into the covers, feeling like Minako was hugging him.

“I’m always right. Be more specific.”

“About coming to Russia. It’s. . .I’m . . I can’t believe it.”

“How so?” Minako chuckled.

“This week has been a mixed bag, I got yelled at by a model—”

Minako hissed. “Who was it?”

“Doesn’t matter. The point is that it lead to me meeting with Victor Nikiforov! He wants to work with me. _Me.”_ Yuuri rolled around in the bed, wanting to scream from joy.

“Oh Yuuri, wow. It’s only been like a week since you moved there.”

“I know!” Yuuri sighs happily and burrowed deeper into his blankets, holding tightly onto his stomach, “You helped me make the right decision. . . Thank you.”

“I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know. Have you called them?” Minako abruptly changed the subject.

“I called Mari and it went well, but she told me not to call mom or dad, that it wouldn’t go well.”

“I see. Yuuri, are you planning on keeping it?”

“Her,” said Yuuri, stroking his stomach. “I like thinking of the baby as a her.”

He could _feel_ Minako’s overwhelming curiosity. But her voice was soft in his ear, like wanted nothing better than to wrap him up in a blanket and cuddle him. “That sounds nice.”

Yuuri _wants_ to be cuddled by Minako, wants to feel safe. Being alone in Russia makes every nerve stand on end, constantly looking over his shoulder. He knows it’s the pregnancy, knows it’s the hormones that make him yearn for a pack. For his family.

“Maybe. . .I should go back to Japan.” Yuuri whispered, “I hate being alone.”

“Yuuri, I’m going to be back with you in a few weeks, okay? We know it’s the baby making you feel like this.”

“Right. . .” Yuuri sucked in a breath, trying to focus on the feeling of his lungs expanding.

“I’m going to call Lilia so she can set up an appointment with a gyno tomorrow. Okay?”

“Ugh, I hate having her help.”

“Do you think she hasn’t done this with hundreds of other betas and omegas? I bet she knew you were pregnant the minute we stepped into her office.”

Yuuri laughed and hiccupped.

“So besides the pregnancy, being accosted by a mystery model, and working with Nikiforov, do you have anything _else_ to share? No mad hatters in your tea cups or opium-smoking worms hanging off your shoulder?”

Yuuri snorted. “There is one thing.”

“Oh?”

“I thought you said Russia was going to be cold? It’s been in the mid-80s and _humid_.”

She chuckled, “Looks like you brought a heatwave with you from the States.”

Yuuri laughed too and then grew serious, he picked at a stray thread from the blanket. “Ben messaged me several times and left one voicemail.”

“Did you listen to it?”

“Yeah, he begged me to come back home. He sounded so sad Minako, I—”

“Yuuri.” Now Minako’s voice turned frosty, “If you look in the mirror you can find evidence of just what kind of love Ben has for you. Do you want that for _her_.”

Yuuri almost swallowed his tongue, his throat spasming around the sound. He clutched his stomach. “ _No!”_

“Then _block_ his number.”

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” whispered Yuuri with a shudder, “We were bonded when—when we made her. I think the bond’s going to last the pregnancy.”

He heard Minako swear something creative and filthy, it made Yuuri feel small and stupid. “I’m sorry.”

“No, no sweetheart. This isn’t your fault. I thought you said that Ben rarely bonded you.”

Yuuri flipped onto his back, feeling his bond with Ben pulse unpleasantly. Ben always liked to mess with him at night, keeping him awake with intrusive thoughts and feelings of when they had been intimate. At least he couldn’t lay a hand on Yuuri or the baby now.

“Bad timing,” muttered Yuuri to no one. “It was always either feast or famine with Ben. Either I was sent by god or I was just—” Yuuri shook his head, _just a thing to be scraped off the floor._ “A plaything.”

“You know you’re neither of those things, right? You’re allowed to make mistakes—”

“I know,” said Yuuri forcefully, and he did. He _knew_. But acting on it. . .

“Think about Viktor,” said Minako suddenly, “You should definitely take advantage of him for as long as possible!”

Yuuri made a soft questioning noise.

“He probably knows all sorts of yummy restaurants to eat at and great places to see like museums and parks and—"

Yuuri tried clearing his throat from the ball of snot threatening to choke him. “I’m sorry, this week was a lot. I can’t really think straight.”

“I can imagine.” Minako said softly, “You don’t have to worry about me letting you down.”

“I k-know.” His breaths came too quickly to say more so Yuuri just cried into his hands, the pressure that had been building up all day loosening. Once it was waning, Yuuri managed to speak. “I won’t be like this forever,” he promised, “I’ll get better. I’m not. . .”

“I know,” said Minako, “believe me, I know. You’re the most pig-headed son I have.”

Yuuri choked on his own spit, laughing. “Uhm, well I don’t see you popping out another.”

“You’re right,” said Minako, with a laugh “But what can I do?”

They spoke a few more minutes of inconsequential things while Yuuri calmed down enough to say goodnight.

Yuuri wanted to desperately believe Minako, but in the back of his mind he wondered if it was more affection and familial love that kept Minako from dumping him on his ass. His work ethic was good but what else did he have? Nothing. Not talent and certainly not that spark of inherent genius like Nikiforov!

A reproachful Viktor floated through his mind.

“Fuck off,” muttered Yuuri at the imaginary Viktor, “Just let me wallow.” He laughed at himself and got up to wash his face, the cool water helping him feel refreshed.

The harsh fluorescents in the master bathroom threw his bruises into stark relief. Yuuri touched his mirror self’s face, without make-up the purple and green pools of color spread from jaw to temple to curl under his eye.

 _Fuck Ben_. More tears spilled from him and impatient with himself, Yuuri dashed away the tears. “Enough!” He told himself, “Enough. _Why_ are you crying?”

“Because you stayed so long. Because you’re _stupid_.” Yuuri answered himself. “It took the biggest mistake of your life to leave.”

Then he felt ashamed. This didn’t have to be a mistake, it was simply a push into a different direction. It was a trigger. Yuuri licked his lips and bent to drink straight out of the faucet and to wet his face once more. When he straightened, Yuuri stripped off his shirt to dry his face and traced his stomach.

It was too soon of course, he wouldn’t show for a few more weeks. And even then, it would be small, nothing really. Only he would notice the slow changes.

“I’m sure you’ll get fat though,” said Yuuri to his mirror self and smiled in pleasure. “It’ll be great.”

With that he went to bed and even slept through his alarm in the morning.

...

...

He ran the entire way to Lilia’s studio and tried to compose himself before entering. Not that it did him any good, Lilia was in the frontroom and she instantly met his eyes.

She tipped her head towards the back and Yuuri nodded, heading to her office while Lilia finished off her conversation with a client.

It’s the sharp sound of her heels that gives Lilia away, so Yuuri has time to straighten his posture before she sweeps into her office. Instead of settling in the chair behind her desk she settles on the one next to Yuuri.

“I read in several gossip columns that Viktor Nikiforov and Yuuri Katsuki were seen having a _very_ interesting conversation here yesterday.”

Yuuri hugged his satchel to his chest, burning up. “I—um. . .”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me,” said Lilia with a touch of ire, “But you _did_ say you wanted nothing to do with—”

“Viktor found me and practically begged me to work with him,” said Yuuri quietly, “in front of everyone. I wasn’t about to say no.” Everyone would have thought him too high and mighty to work with Viktor _Nikiforov_.

Lilia pursed her lips, “I’ll talk with him.”

“No need,” said Yuuri, a bit sharper than intended, “All Mr. Nikiforov wants me to do is some design work I think. I doubt it will take more than a few weeks. Don’t worry about my work here though, I can keep up. Here.” He pulled out a folio of transparencies he’d printed out yesterday.

The only indication Lilia gave that she was surprised was a flicker of her lashes, she scrutinized the transparencies. “You finished this a few days before the deadline.”

“I just have a lot of time on my hands.”

Lilia considered his carefully applied make up. “Is your face painful?”

Yuuri’s heart jumped at the change in topic so he changed it right back. “I also met Yuri Plisetsky a few days ago.”

Now Lilia looked intrigued, “And was that meeting just as fruitful?” Lilia tucked the transparencies away carefully.

“He cornered me in a bathroom and yelled. Quite a bit.”

Lilia stilled, her breath catching silently in her throat. “Did he now.”

“Yes.” With a jolt, Yuuri realized he was _angry_ Plisetsky had cornered and screamed at him. Yuuri’s breath quickened along with his heart rate as he remembered coming out of a crying fit and then having an alpha who scented of violence corner him in a small space.

“I will speak with him.”

Lilia startled him out of those dark thoughts, Yuuri rubbed his neck. “I would appreciate it if he didn’t approach me to apologize or otherwise. I’d like to forget the incident happened at all.”

Lilia sighed and nodded slowly, her lips pinched into a thin line. “That seems like a reasonable and kind alternative to pressing charges, which you would be within your rights. I apologize for his behavior. It won’t happen again.” The absolute murderous look in Lilia’s eyes made Yuuri scared on Plisetsky’s behalf. The young alpha was going to be _skinned_ alive.

She fixed him with an assessing look, “Madam Okukawa called me to tattle about your need for an appointment today.”

Yuuri forced himself to smile, his shoulders tense. “That does sound like her.”

“Do you want me to come with you? I’ve done this several times with my people.”

 _Her people_. Yuuri stared at the soft, beat-up leather of his satchel. Was _he_ her people? Did she now think of him as being part of— “That would be helpful. Thank you. . .”

“I’m happy to help.”

Lilia stood and gave him a strange look. “Are you putting up a mental block against your ex?”

“Uhh. . .”

Lilia sniffed disdainfully at Yuuri’s panicked look, _“Obviously_ the father exists. And it’s equally obvious you have no wish to share the pregnancy with them.”

 _Right_. “It doesn’t always work, but I try to block him out as often as possible.”

“Good. Are you taking vitamins?”

“For what?”

“For the _baby_ ,” said Lilia, exasperated, “You should have been taking vitamins months ago.”

“I wasn’t planning on getting pregnant,” said Yuuri, feeling slightly hysterical that Madame Baranovskaya was giving him advice on his pregnancy. “This was an ‘oops’!”

“Regardless, you need vitamins. We’ll go shopping after the appointment. You are categorically forbidden from disappearing like last week when Plisetsky accosted you, or I _will_ fire you.”

“Y-yes Madame,” said Yuuri, fearing for his life. Good _grief_. Now Lilia was having some sort of territorial crisis over Yuuri’s pregnancy. _Great_.

....

....

“It’s on the third floor,” said Lilia, stopping her town car in front of a posh looking clinic, “Just ring the bell and ask for the third floor, your name should be enough to get you in.”

“They speak English?”

“Of course. Now go on. I have a meeting nearby. You’ll be fine.”

Yuuri ducked into the building, riding the elevator to the third floor with a couple holding hands and beaming at one another. It made him yearn to have someone’s hand to hold too, but the person in his mind was hazy, he refused to even entertain the idea of Ben’s strong hand holding his again.

Yuuri sighed and hoped this wouldn’t take too long. The forms _did_ take a long time but it was only a few seconds between Yuuri stripping out of his clothes and into a hospital gown before the doctor knocked.

“Hello, Messer Katsuki. I’m Dr. Averina, it’s a pleasure to meet you, I’ll be your primary doctor throughout your pregnancy.”

“Yuuri is fine, and ‘he’ is fine too. It’s nice to meet you as well.”

Dr. Averina double-checked her tablet, “You’ve left your pronouns blank on the form, should I change them?”

“I left them blank on purpose.”

Dr. Averina gave him a mischievous smile, “Ah, I see. Well then, to business. It says here you took a urine test about four weeks ago at your primary physician in the United States? And it came up positive.”

“That’s right.”

Dr. Averina’s eyebrows almost reached her hairline. “So you kept meticulous track of your cycles in order to get pregnant. When did you start taking pre-natals? Also we didn’t receive any medical records from—”

Yuuri cleared his throat, “Uhm no. This was a mistake. I mean. . .It was on accident. But I freaked out the day after. . .since I knew I was close and we didn’t use protection and . . . and I wasn’t on birth control.” Yuuri groaned, “I went to my doctor the minute they said the hormones would show up on a blood test.” Yuuri sighed, slumping over his bare knees.

Dr. Averina leaned on the counter by the wall, still a few arm lengths away from Yuuri, letting him acclimate to her presence. “And the day-after pill wasn’t an option for you?”

Yuuri looked up at her through his lashes, dreading her judgment. “I’m still thinking about it. I know there are genetic tests and stuff? But I’ve always wanted to start a family and she, the baby, got me out of America. But if she’s not going to be healthy, if I can’t take care of her. . .I don’t have a lot of money. . . And I don’t have family. So I couldn’t do a good job if. . . I don’t want her to suffer like—like me.”

Tears filled his eyes and dripped down his chin, Yuuri hid his face. “I know that’s selfish. I should be happy with any baby, right? There are so many people who—”

“I can stop you right there, young man. There are people who have ten kids and there are people who have none. It’s up to each person and family to decide when enough is enough.”

Dumbly, Yuuri nodded, clutching his own knees. “Okay.”

“Good. Now what I understand you want to know if the fetus has any genetic abnormalities. You want to make sure she has ten fingers and toes in all the right places.”

Yuuri nodded and accepted the box of tissues from Dr. Averina.

“Well. Genetic testing is usually done between the eighth and tenth week of pregnancy and any abortions are usually done before the twenty-fourth week. What I can do for you is schedule genetic testing for week ten and a prescription for an abortifacient that you can pick up to use _before_ week 12. After that you would have to come in and see me. Does that sound okay?”

“I thought it was a whole _thing_.” Yuuri waved vaguely at her, “Like anesthesia and stuff.”

“If you allow gestation to continue to week 23 or 24 you will have to come in to the office. But there is no anesthesia involved, it is a day procedure.”

“And the pill?”

“It would make you bleed very heavily for about two days. Then you come in for a check up to make sure you aren’t bleeding out on me.”

“Oh. That’s so. . .easy.”

“America is very hysterical about abortions,” said Dr. Averina with a shrug, “But people with vaginas have been going through with abortions even before the first brothels started up. It is simply a part of life.”

“Oh. . .”

“Here is a pamphlet with information about that for you to read. Now. Do you think you will want an abortion?”

Yuuri slowly shook his head, “I don’t know. I don’t think so. Not unless the baby is sick.”

“Very well. Now. . . I don’t see any information about the baby’s father on here.”

Yuuri fidgeted in his paper gown. “I left him back in America.”

“Because of the pregnancy? Or because of work? Your file says you immigrated here for work.”

“Pregnancy.”

Dr. Averina looked at the wall with a smiling rainbow on it, squinting. “You didn’t want to share your child with your now ex-partner.”

“No,” said Yuuri in relief, “No I don’t.”

“Were they abusive?”

“No, absolutely not!” Yuuri touched his right cheek, he still had to put on heavy make-up to hide the bruises.

Dr. Averina nodded slowly, keeping her smile light, “Okay then. Now onto more important matters!” Dr. Averina pulled out her pen and clicked it loudly, “Tell me about your eating and exercising habits! Also your sleep schedule! You need to sleep well if you’re going to fatten up for me.”

Yuuri laughed into his hand, he felt loose with relief. “I see. . .”

“That’s right,” Dr. Averina eyed him pensively, “You’ll also need to be careful of what you eat and what medication you take. On your form you put that you used to take anxiety medications?”

“Yeah. . .That was a while ago.” Yuuri looked down at his hands, feeling a sharp nudge from his bond that he batted away.

“Did you use them in combination with therapy?”

“Up until a few months ago I attended therapy but I stopped both . . . Ben had me stop.”

Yuuri stared at Dr. Averina, daring her to say something. But she was busy searching for a form in a cabinet. “Would you want to start again?” She asked casually.

“. . .I don’t know?”

“Let me know if—Ah-ha! Here you go. A list of foods and over the counter meds that are absolute no-no’s for momma’s to-be.”

“Did you hear what I just said?”

“About Ben? I did. And I don’t see what they have to do with your choices now.” Dr. Averina shrugged, “Would you like a list of therapists that work in English? Or I’m sure I could compile a list of online—”

“English is fine,” mumbled Yuuri, “Thank you.”

“Not at all. Now comes the difficult part, young man. I need to do a physical. Lie back.”

“I’m nervous,” admitted Yuuri.

“It’s going to be quick,” promised Dr. Averina, “Do you want someone to step in with you today?”

“No.”

“Alright then.”

Yuuri’s knees were shaking when he hooked them in the stirrups.

Dr. Averina paused before taking out the supplies, carefully looking at Yuuri. “Would you like to postpone this physical until next time?”

Immediately, Yuuri snapped upright, bringing his knees under himself.

“Then I guess that’s all I have for you today,” Dr. Averina stripped her gloves off, tossing them into the trash can. “I’ll step out so you can get dressed.” Dr. Averina pulled out a card from her pocket and put it on top of the other papers she was giving him, “Here you go. In case you have any questions for me after hours.”

Yuuri accepted the card with a shy smile.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are different forms of preventing a pregnancy: condoms, pills, sponges, spermicide, IUD, rhythm method, etc. etc.  
> There are also many forms of stopping a pregnancy: Pills, herbs, teas, and surgical procedures. 
> 
> I hope that everyone understands that an abortion can be an easy choice or it can be the most difficult choice every made. And in my particular story, the character decides not to go through with it because of reasons. And that is enough. No one has to explain their life to strangers.  
> If you have any questions about this topic feel free to leave a comment. Remain respectful and kind, there is absolutely NO reason to be rude to me or other people.
> 
> Resources!  
> https://www.plannedparenthood.org/learn/pregnancy  
> https://www.plannedparenthood.org/learn/birth-control  
> https://www.plannedparenthood.org/learn/abortion
> 
>  
> 
> https://www.womenshealth.gov/pregnancy/youre-pregnant-now-what/stages-pregnancy
> 
> https://www.nhs.uk/conditions/abortion/


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for all the super nice comments! they've essentially turned what was supposed to be a 3 chapter fic into... Well Im working on chapter 9 now so ( ´ ▽ ` )

Viktor spent half the day in Yakov’s office, fretting and trying to get Yakov to lease an entire floor for him and Yuuri.

“You don’t need a whole _floor_ ,” Yakov bit his tongue on, _you absolute smitten moron._ He didn’t need Viktor getting any weird ideas about proposing to Katsuki. “You _would_ ,” hissed Yakov, startling Viktor.

“Huh? Sorry, I didn’t hear you.”

Luckily, they were both interrupted by a knocking to Yakov’s door.

“Mila! How are you?”

“I’m good, thanks. Could you please step outside with me? Lilia has something she wants to discuss with Yakov in private.”

“Oh, sure!” He bowed Lilia into Yakov’s office which earned him a pat on the head.

He and Mila stood outside, chatting while Lilia had her meeting with Yakov.

“They’re not shouting,” whispered Mila, sticking her ear to the door, “Do you think they’re making love?”

Viktor kneaded his knuckles into his eyebrows, first Chris now Mila. “You’re the second person to insinuate that Yakov knows what sex is. _Why_ does this keep happening?”

Mila giggled, “You should definitely stop imagining them naked then.”

Viktor almost fainted. “They’re like our parents!”

“I already walked in on my real parents once,” sniffed Mila in a scarily good imitation of Lilia. “I’ve already scarred over from that experience. Besides, aren’t like old people super sexually active?”

Viktor threw himself onto the door, whining about his sanity. Mila laughed, scolding him to stop being so dramatic, “I’m trying to eavesdrop, Vitya. Shhh!”

At that moment Yakov hauled the door open. “What on earth are you two doing pounding on this door while—”

“ _Pounding_ ,” mouthed Mila, her face red.

Viktor had to look into Yakov’s lined face with that word floating through his brain.

……..

………

He and Mila were grabbing coffee when Viktor’s phone rang.

“Hello? This is Viktor Nikiforov.”

“Yes,” said Yuuri Katsuki, “I know. I called you.”

“Cheeky,” retorted Viktor, “I’m just being polite.”

He heard Katsuki shuffling and something that sounded like muffled laughter. “Anyway, I was just calling to tell you that I accept your offer.”

“Fantastic! Do you have time to meet today?”

“Ah . . . yes, but only for a little bit.”

“That’s perfect. I’m grabbing coffee right now, what would you like?  A latte? They have pastries that look delicious. Or maybe a sandwich? That’s more filling and nutritious. Or how about—” Viktor realized he sounded like a maniac, so he took a breath, “Sorry. I got a little too excited.”

Yuuri laughed again, so quietly that Viktor almost missed it.

“I think I’d like some tea, please. Iced. No sugar. With a little bit of cream in it.”

“Ice yes. Sugar no. Touch of cream,” repeated Viktor, “Are you at Lilia’s? There’s a park three blocks south, I’ll meet you there at the chess tables.” The minute he hung up, Viktor realized he’d forgotten to ask what _type_ of tea.

The barista didn’t look impressed at Viktor’s panic. “We have black tea, green tea, chamomile, lavender-mocha.”

Viktor wrinkled his nose, “Green tea then.”

“You look like you’re trying to court him,” observed Mila, cocking her eyebrow, “You should be careful.”

“Why? Do I not look nice? I should probably go home and change. Maybe Makka—”

“Oh my god, Viktor _stop_ and chill out for like three breaths. Listen carefully, Yuri Plisetsky is right about now getting reamed through the butt for going feral on Katsuki. Lilia told me Katsuki doesn’t even want to sniff a whiff of Yura. Two, Katsuki is skittish. If you come on too strong Katsuki might get nervous and call the whole thing off.”

Viktor frowned, “But I already talked to Yura and he said—.”

“Yeah well,” Mila interrupted him, wagging a finger in his face, “Lilia told me she was happy Yuuri didn’t consider pressing charges.”

Viktor almost dropped the drinks, “ _What?_ Plisetsky said the whole thing wasn’t that bad.”

Mila shrugged, “Don’t know what to tell you. I don’t know the details myself but whatever Katsuki said made Lilia turn into Mama-Bear mode.”

Viktor rolled his eyes, Lilia’s Mama-Bear mode was annoying as it was effective. He’d been protected by her shadow more than once in his life. . . Viktor pushed those unpleasant memories aside. “I understand. I won’t scare him off. I’m just really excited. His work is. . .”

“I know!” Mila bounced on her toes, grinning widely, “He’s got so much potential!”

“And I’m going to turn it into reality,” said Viktor grimly.

“Whoa, calm down there,” teased Mila. “You’d better hurry though. We’ve messed around long enough.”

……

……

He found Yuuri idly playing chess against himself.

“Here you go. I hope you like green tea.”

“I do.” Yuuri looked up at him and gave him a nervous smile. “Uh. . .Sorry about being rude earlier, on the phone.”

“What? Oh that. No that was just a little friendly teasing,” Viktor was desperate to reassure Yuuri and make him feel comfortable. “So. Collaborating.” He sat down at the other chair and started to place the chess pieces into their starting positions. “Who was winning, you or yourself?”

“I was losing,” replied Yuuri cryptically, sipping the tea and humming in appreciation, “This is really good.”

Viktor had all the pieces lined up and Yuuri took the first turn since he was white. But Viktor just stared at his hands, brows furrowed. “I have to tell you something first.”

“Y-yes?”

“It’s about Yuri Plisetsky. . .”

Instantly, Yuuri stiffened, his face going flat. “What about him?”

“I just want to be completely honest with you. He’s my flatmate.”

Yuuri was already pushing his chair back, but Viktor stood up too. “Please don’t leave,” he pleaded, “You don’t have to talk or interact with him at all! _I_ hardly talk to him. But if I didn’t say anything and you found out. . .”

“I’d feel like you were hiding it for a specific reason,” finished Yuuri, dropping back into his chair. “I don’t have to see him?”

“He really scared you that badly. . .” Viktor gave him a helpless look. “But no. It’ll just be us two working together and whoever else we hire on.”

Yuuri closed his eyes tightly, he didn’t want to admit just how shaken he’d been at the mere thought of seeing Plisetsky again.

“Yuuri? I’m sorry about bringing it up, I wanted to be as honest as possible.”

Yuuri saw that Viktor had made his first move, shakily he picked his castle up and moved it in response. _Two up one over._ “Thank you,” said Yuuri quietly, staring down at the board, “For your honesty.” Viktor picked up a pawn and moved it. They went through a few rounds before Yuuri spoke up again.

“What was that about hiring people?”

Viktor looked up, blinking a few times to yank himself out of his concentration on the game. Yuuri smiled at that; _Did he really forget why we met up?_

“Right. . .Work. Well I haven’t explained anything, have I?” Viktor sheepishly ran his hands through his hair.

“Not really. Checkmate.”

“ _What_.” Viktor huffed, “Damn. I’m terrible at chess.”

“You really are,” said Yuuri, “I barely learned a few months ago.”

Viktor felt a burst of affection at Yuuri’s teasing. “Terrible strategics aside, we have this assignment from Yakov.” Last night Viktor had pored over the folio of what Yakov needed for one of the fashion magazines. “Here.”

Yuuri flipped it open, hands sliding across the pages of notes and glossy photos of different backgrounds. There were also swathes of sample textures. “The masses,” read Yuuri, “Their style and their lives.” Yuuri tapped his toes, rereading the bio at the top of the page.

“Interesting premise, right? I thought we could find models who are more laid back and less intimidating.”

With a thoughtful hum, Yuuri flipped through the pages. “The masses from St. Petersburg only?”

Taken aback Viktor squinted at the photos in front of Yuuri, it was all of neighborhoods of the city. “I think it would be too difficult to include other cities. Our deadline is in a month.”

“Right. About the models, do you have anyone in particular you want to include?”

“No. I waited to talk with you.”

“Oh.” Yuuri seemed pleased by this. “In that case, I don’t want to use anyone known.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I think,” said Yuuri, a slow blush creeping up his throat, “That it would be more interesting to use _actual_ ‘masses’ for the photos. And fun!” He tried strengthening his voice, willing it not to crack.

Viktor frowned and started setting up the chessboard again as he thought. Yuuri closed the folio and moved it to the side.

“Things would be more difficult if we use amateurs.”

Yuuri shook his head, “Not amateurs. Just _regular_ people.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” said Viktor slowly, “Although I see what you’re getting at. Perhaps. . .We can contact various agencies and request people who don’t have experience.”

A slow smile spread across Yuuri’s lips, “Yeah. . .People who _want_ to be models but just haven’t gotten their first shoot. And yet they have the training! It’s perfect!” He grinned, “I hadn’t thought about that.”

“You really wanted to pick up random strangers for a professional photoshoot.” Viktor tipped his head to the side and smiled sweetly, “Cute.”

Yuuri gritted his teeth, “Yeah, but using career models for something tag-lined as ‘ _fashion for the masses’_ is kind of—” Yuuri stopped, biting down on his tongue at the look Viktor was giving him. “S-sorry, that was really rude.”

“You were blunt,” said Viktor, “And right.” He took the folio and gazed down at it regretfully, “Anyone else would have already gone for the ‘urban jungle’ angle. But you’re literally taking it as fashion for every day people.”

Yuuri hunched his shoulders, “Well they shouldn’t have that as the bio if they didn’t—”

Viktor moved his bishop straight across the board, knocking all of the pieces aside, “Checkmate.”

Yuuri was utterly confused, Viktor had simply leapt across the board with the bishop and knocked Yuuri’s queen and all surrounding pieces down. Yuuri snorted. “We’ll call that a tie.”

“Mm, clearly my bishop is threatening your king, so~” Viktor batted his eyelashes.

 “Fine,” Yuuri laughed to himself, relenting, “Congratulations. You won.”

“Nooo,” Viktor whined, “That’s not what I meant by it. I was just teasing. Anyway. . .” Viktor gave him one last injured look before nudging all the pieces aside and flipping the folio open, “Your strengths are designing clothing and creating conceptual work-ups right?”

“You know. . .I came here ready to just take notes on what _you_ wanted,” said Yuuri, scratching his cheek. “But. . .You actually want to work _with_ me.” The end of the sentence lilted up into a question and Viktor sensed the time was right to allow some of his eagerness.

“Exactly!” Viktor brought his phone out, quickly opening a webpage bookmarked onto his favorite outfits and conceptual designs from various productions Yuuri had been a part of. He handed the phone over. “These are my personal favorites. You have a wide repertoire of talents and interests!”

Yuuri took a moment to scroll through the pages and realized. . .” Wait, if you have these saved that means you bought—”

“I bought access to your work,” said Viktor rather indignantly, “I wanted to enjoy your genius at all times of the day.”

That made Yuuri feel a little queasy. “I’m flattered.”

“You should be,” said Viktor happily, “I don’t think I’ve ever liked so much of someone’s work. How do you do it?”

Yuuri almost flinched at the curious intensity in Viktor’s eyes. “I don’t know. I guess I just do a lot of research, I read a lot. I listen to many different music and podcasts. And I spend a lot of hours working. Out of all the crap I vomit out, something usually comes out that can be shared.”

Viktor was quiet for a long time, playing with a chess piece. “I see.” He put the chess piece down.

“Yeah,” said Yuuri with a light chuckle, “I usually only have time for friends right after work, so most of my acquaintances are really work friends.”

“Oh, me too!” exclaimed Viktor, “Yakov says that’s bad for me. He’s always talking about balancing work and life or something.” He grinned at a pawn and put it down.

Yuuri waved his hand, “Balance? Please.” Yuuri’s sarcasm was heavy and Viktor delighted in it.

Viktor grinned, “Ah, a man after my own heart.”

“Hah. You wish.” Yuuri avoided Viktor’s eyes and looked around the park, realizing how much time had passed. “Ah! Lilia’s going to be mad. I’m late!” He got up, slinging his bag over his shoulder.

“I can give you a ride—”

Yuuri looked torn. “I’m ah—” _Viktor’s a public figure, he wouldn’t try anything awful. But a car is a dangerous place to be with a stranger. And what kind of person can stand to room with Plisetsky?_ Yuuri had trouble reading Viktor, who flirted so easily with him, but seemed to be genuinely interested in his work. _What’s his deal?_

“Or I could call up a taxi for you? And I could show you how to call one up, you haven’t been here long, have you?”

Viktor helped him download an app for the city’s public transportation services, “I use it all the time. Here’s the section for the trains and this one’s for buses. It even has maps and scheduling widget. And here’s the number for the taxi service. All of the drivers are vetted through the police so you shouldn’t worry about some creep being your driver.”

“Thanks, I never would have figured it out by myself.” Yuuri smiled at Viktor, relieved that the alpha was intuitive enough to know he was uncomfortable with being offered a ride.

“It was a pleasure working with you today,” said Viktor sincerely, holding his hand out to be clasped, “If all my meetings were this fun I would never stop.”

“Heh,” Yuuri secretly thought the same thing but couldn’t bring himself to say it. “I’ll see you next Tuesday. I should have something for you to see by then.”

“Could you stop by the office tomorrow? Just so I get a chance to give you a copy of this folio. Next Tuesday should be fine, I’ll have the list of models to go through. Where would you like to meet? I kind of like getting out of the office, it’s nice seeing other people. Should we use this park for one of the backdrops?”

Startled Yuuri swung around, “I guess it would be really cheap and easy to get a permit for it too.”

“Right! We’ll put in on the list to consider.”

A sleek black and green car pulled up.

Viktor pointed it out, “If you look at the front windshield and back one there should be a matching set of city permit stickers too. And on the app the driver’s picture shows up. See? Safe!”

Yuuri couldn’t help but feel a pleased squeeze in his chest. “Thanks. . .It was one of the things that was worrying me. I don’t know how to drive so I’m glad Russia is so good about transportation. Thank you for offering to drive, I just—”

“It’s okay, I hope we can become friends. Today was fun.” Viktor knew he was repeating himself, quickly he quickly handed back Yuuri’s phone and waved good-bye.

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't realize how much I make yuuri cry. :s
> 
> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoy :))

Yuuri woke up feeling like a drunkard was pissing in his stomach, he didn’t even make it to the bathroom before his dinner and lunch came up. All over the bathroom floor.

He managed to make it to the toilet before the next wave hit him. After a while, Yuuri had no more to offer to the porcelain gods so he stumbled upright and wet a towel to clean his face and cover the vomit on the floor.

The master bathroom smelled sour, making Yuuri’s nausea worse. He gagged on the smell, he rushed to throw more towels over the mess. He snagged his toothbrush and some toothpaste, running out before he gagged again.

Yuuri rushed out of the house later than usual, luckily he had called a taxi using the app Viktor helped him download. The driver kept the windows rolled down and they both enjoyed the fresh morning air.

“It’s good the heatwave has passed, no?”

“Very good,” sighed Yuuri, “I was afraid Russia was going to be hot forever.”

His driver chuckled and gently pulled up to the building where Feltsman Couture was.

The skyscraper wasn’t as tall of many of the ones in America, but it was still an impressive mass of brushed steel and glass windows. It was easy enough to slip through security on the ground floor and onto the elevators to the floor for Feltsman Couture.

But the security desk on the fifth floor was a bit trickier, Yuuri approached the security bar and checked his phone. Viktor had texted him to wait on the ground floor so Yuuri sent him a short message to let him know he had snuck up to the foyer of Feltsman Couture.

Viktor’s message was short too.

 

 

_[Viktor!!]: Naughty Yuuri ;)_

 

 

The security guard noticed Yuuri loitering, smiling at him instead of immediately trying to kick him out. “Messer, do you need something?”

“Uhh. . .” Yuuri fumbled for his phone, “No. I’m just waiting—"

“Oi, you need to get in? I heard you were working with Viktor so I can—”

Yuuri whirled, heart already shooting up into his mouth, he was afraid of biting down on the tender flesh. Scenting his fear, the security guard immediately stood up, glaring daggers at Yuri P.

Yuuri straightened his path, “ _No._ Thank you. I’m just waiting for—”

“ _Yuri Plisetsky!_ ”

Both Yuris froze at the savage growl that ripped through the foyer. Yuuri went rigid with fear, pressing up against the security bar, but neither Viktor nor Yuri seemed to remember he was there at all.

Viktor rushed up to them, teeth bared, pumping out the most awful violent pheromones Yuuri had ever scented. Yuuri went down onto his knees, light-headed and nauseous. The security guard ducked under the bar and yanked Yuuri through a narrow opening.

“It’s alright, messer. Just sit quietly. You’re okay.”

Shuddering, Yuuri nodded. He felt sick again, he pawed for something to throw up into. Another security guard, an omega, wrapped her arms around him. “It’s okay, messer. You’re safe.” She pressed a scent mask over his face as the first guard barked at Viktor to stand down.

Yuuri no longer scented any violence but he could still hear Viktor furiously talking with Yuri. _Oh god._

His feeling of nausea quickly passed once the air was clear and with the help of the guard, he managed to get up and out of the security desk. Absolutely everyone was staring at them.

“Yuuri! Are you okay?” Viktor turned towards him, eyes full of worry. He grabbed Yuuri’s hand, smoothing his fingers over Yuuri’s knuckles.

Yuuri slapped Viktor’s hand off him and looked for the young alpha. “Where is he?”

“He ran off. . .” Viktor held his smacked hand, eyes wide. “I’m sorry.”

Yuuri’s vision was narrowed down to just himself and Viktor, he wouldn’t have noticed a meteor hitting the building and incinerating them all. “I was handling it.” His knees were still shaking but Yuuri managed to remain upright. “And I don’t appreciate being touched by alphas just looking to stick their dick up my—”

Viktor squawked at the crass language. “No! I’m not—”

“Aren’t you?” Yuuri irritably swept his hair back, “You’ve been insinuating that you want to.”

“It’s not like that at all,” said Viktor quickly, panic in his clear blue eyes, “I’m so sorry. I never meant—”

“Yeah, well it doesn’t matter,” said Yuuri, hiking his bag up onto his shoulder and pushing Viktor aside. “I’m going back to Lilia’s.” He ran for the elevator bank.

Inside the elevator Yuuri lost his goddamned mind. He alternated between laughing and screaming at himself. He turned and pounded at his own reflection in the mirrored walls, “You stupid fucking—argh! Why couldn’t you yell like that at Ben?!” He punctuated each word with a hit to his own mirrored face.

He wanted to break the mirror, he wanted to rewind two, three years ago before Ben got so possessive. He should have screamed at Ben _then_ , he should have screamed and thrown a fit and shown Ben he wasn’t a perfect little glass figurine to admire and crush underfoot.

But instead he was in an elevator hurtling for the ground floor of his dream job with his fist aching and his belly heavy. Yuuri realized he was almost at the lobby. Forcing him to smooth his hair down, pat his make-up, and take a couple deep breaths before stepping back out onto the busy first floor.

Instead of heading to Lilia’s studio which was several kilometers south, Yuuri walked blindly until he reached a park. Yuuri wasn’t sure where he was but the park was nice, it had a lake and a children’s playground and lots of benches along the pathways. Yuuri was about to move on when he felt a phantom wrench from his bond. _Ben._ Yuuri would have loved to fight back, but he was so tired. It was difficult to even make a choice about what to do.

Ben continued to drill and cut through the bond, sending awful sensations that Yuuri can’t ignore. Not with his head full of a violence-scented Viktor. Yuuri stumbled onto a bench, slamming his bag onto the ground, probably breaking all of his charcoal sticks in the process.

“Fuck!” Yuuri ground the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to control himself, he can’t fall apart in public, someone could get concerned. He yanked the satchel onto the bench to rummage for his sketchbook and a charcoal stick, luckily none of them were broken. _It’s the small things,_ thought Yuuri grimly, _that get you through the day._

He looked around and found a nice tree that would be good practice, he could turn it into an ent or a wizard’s house. Or a nymph! Anything that would take his mind off the incessant, wrenching pain of his bond.

He sunk down into the motions of it, into drawing not only what he saw but what he wanted to feel. Right now Yuuri wanted to feel calm, to avoid the hard knowledge that he was probably _fired_ for yelling at Viktor Nikiforov of all fucking people.

A tear fell right onto the middle of his drawing, making charcoal dust run down the page.

“Great.” Yuuri sniffled, wiping his face. “I’m going to dehydrate myself—” He froze. Far away, so far that he looked almost indistinguishable except for his silver hair, was Viktor.

But it didn’t look like he was searching for Yuuri, his head was tucked low and he was ambling so slowly his feet dragged. It made a very pitiful picture.

Yuuri watched Viktor follow the path, keeping to the side so he wouldn’t disturb any parents with strollers or ambitious runners. Although the path he was on looped lazily through the park, it would eventually reach Yuuri’s bench. If neither of them changed course, that is.

Not letting himself think too much about it, Yuuri set about eating his own ego and saving his career. Again. Yuuri packed his things and started walking toward Viktor, trying to keep his feet on the concrete path, trying not to ruminate on the feral snarl Viktor had made towards Plisetsky.

When he was close enough, Yuuri cleared his throat and spoke up. They were still far from one another, about ten feet or so. “Uhm, Viktor?”

Viktor’s mouth fell open, “Did you follow me here?”

“N-no, I thought _you_ had followed me here. But you obviously didn’t.”

“I’m sorry.”

A blush rising up his face, Yuuri stammered. “You scared the _crap_ out of me.” He wanted to laugh and scream and run head first into the lake, _Am I really scolding Viktor Nikiforov? Oh my god I am. I totally am._ He mentally dissed Ben too, feeling a sharp bite of hatred through the bond.

“I apologize,” said Viktor in a tiny voice that made Yuuri want to shriek.

“Are you okay?”

“Am I—” Viktor laughed, “Am _I_ okay? My flatmate and I have been bitching and snapping at you for the past week. Are _you_ okay?”

Taken aback Yuuri shuffled in place, “Uh, yeah. I’m used to it.”

Viktor’s eyes widened and flickered over the right side of his face before returning to his eyes. It took all of Yuuri’s self control to not snap his hand over the bruising that was _supposed_ to be hidden by his make-up. Make-up that had probably been rubbed off in all the excitement and his crying. _Fuck!_

“Alright. I’ll let you keep going then,” said Viktor, backing off the pathway, giving Yuuri a wide berth, “I’m sorry this didn’t work out. . .I really wanted it to,” regret pulled at Viktor’s mouth, as if he would start crying any second.

Yuuri’s eyes almost fell out of their sockets. Viktor looked like he’d suddenly shouldered a huge burden, bowing his shoulders. This wasn’t the man from yesterday with sparkling blue eyes, this was a ghost.

“I’ll be sure to return your drawings, I still have the sketchbook.”

“Keep them,” said Yuuri, his lips numb, “You obviously liked them.”

“Ah. . .Thank you. You’re very kind.” Viktor ducked his head lower and turned away.

Yuuri let Viktor walk away, just to see what would happen.

And in the end, nothing did. Viktor kept walking, not turning back.

When Viktor was almost at the edge of the park, Yuuri started walking. He sped up to a trot, and then to a run.

“Viktor! Wait!”

Viktor’s eyes widened, and he shied away from Yuuri’s erratic approach. Once they were close enough Viktor dropped his gaze which pleased Yuuri, some feral part of him liking how Viktor bowed his head.

Yuuri looked around and saw some picnic tables nearby. “Come sit with me.”

………..

……….

Once Viktor sat down, Yuuri couldn’t make himself move to sit as well. Instead he stood over the cowed alpha in complete shock at Viktor’s completely submissive pose, head down and feet tucked under himself. That long, pale neck bared and vulnerable.

Viktor looked up, and catching Yuuri’s eyes, immediately went back to staring at the ground, even clasping his hands in front of himself and curling up a little more, destroying his usually beautiful posture.

Trembling, Yuuri reached out for the wide hair whorl on Viktor’s pink scalp. He dug his finger in and got no reaction from Viktor, but Yuuri wanted a reaction. Wanted Viktor to smack his hand away, _do_ something _._

“ _Don’t_ do that again.” He kept his finger there, holding Viktor down in submission.

“I won’t,” said Viktor, his voice hoarse. “I just—I let my instincts run away with me. It’s no excuse but that’s what happened. I’m so sorry.”

Yuuri lifted the pressure of his finger but smoothed his fingers slightly into Viktor’s hair. The alpha shuddered under him at the denial. He couldn’t look up, not with the slight pressure of Yuuri’s hand commanding him to remain down.

“I’ve—” said Yuuri, coming to a decision, “I’ve had _quite_ enough of alphas pushing me around and abusing me. I’ve withstood it for three years and I—” Yuuri’s voice faltered, “I’m _tired_ of it. Do you understand? I think. . .” Yuuri’s heart was beating wildly in his chest but having Viktor quivering under him was an exhilarating feeling, it made Yuuri feel reckless. “I’d rather die than go back to _that_ situation.”

“Yuuri. . .” Viktor’s voice cracked.

“I won’t,” reassured Yuuri, “But I don’t want your pity.” After catching his breath Yuuri continued, “And I don’t want you flirting with me. Yes, I think you’re attractive and you’re very nice but I’m not in a position to—” He swallowed, his other hand tracing over his stomach. “I don’t want to date. _Anyone._ ”

He waited for the questions. For the outrageous promises that Viktor wasn’t like anyone Yuuri had ever met. That they were _destined_ or something equally silly.

Viktor remained silent.

Yuuri removed his hand slowly, lingering over the soft slide of Viktor’s hair. He was playing with Viktor now. They both knew it.

Finally, Viktor looked up, his face was brittle, eyes over bright. “I understand. That being said, if you ever need help, call me.”

“As friends.” Yuuri extended his hand.

Viktor stared at Yuuri’s hand for a second and then a smile bloomed on his face. “As friends,” repeated Viktor with a slowly brightening face. “Thank you. And I’m—”

Yuuri yanked Viktor to his feet, pulling a yelp from the alpha who stumbled.

“No more apologies.”

Viktor heaved a giant sigh, his chest expanding in exaggeration, “Got it.” Viktor looked around and brightened at seeing a nearby juice cart. “Juice for the ride home?”

Yuuri nodded, “Yeah.”

“Are you alright? You look like you haven’t slept.”

Yuuri rubbed his forehead and laughed, his voice hard. “Well. . .It’s not just that—Nevermind.”

Viktor looked so worried that Yuuri felt compelled to reassure him, “I’m okay.” When Yuuri grimaced with another sharp stab from his bond, Viktor didn’t look convinced but said no more.

They walked slowly, sipping their juices, each one lost in thought.

They were deep within the park, the sun high overhead when Yuuri felt a sharp tug on his bond, as if someone had punched all the air from his lungs. Yuuri tried to put up a mental block against it and failed, Yuuri doubled over, dropping his drink.

“What’s wrong?” Viktor grabbed Yuuri’s shoulders, alarmed at the pain twisting over Yuuri’s face.

“It’s nothing,” gasped Yuuri, trying to straighten up, but he couldn’t do more than clench his jaw closed, a pathetic whine escaping his lips.

“Alright you liar,” said Viktor softly, “Let’s just get somewhere quiet.” He steered them off the path to a tree with large roots. Yuuri bit down on his tongue and allowed Viktor to walk them away from the path, his vision blurred with the migraine splitting his head wide open.  “Here, sit.”

Yuuri all but collapses, scraping his hands on the bark, pressing his back against the tree.

“Careful,” says Viktor, trying and failing to prevent him from falling. “Yuuri. Open your eyes. What’s happening?”

The feeling on intense nausea could be from the bond or it could be the hormones. The pain however, is all Ben. “Bondmate,” spat Yuuri, closing his eyes again. “Bad bondmate. Did this.” Yuuri motioned to the bruises on his face.

“What can I do?” asked Viktor carefully, his face falling when Yuuri shakes his head. “Nothing?”

“It’s a bond,” said Yuuri, finally managing to push Ben away, for the moment. “It’s not something you can take medicine for.”

Viktor tucked him in between the roots of the tree securely, pressing himself in next to Yuuri. “I had a friend who had a. . .who was in your situation. Sort of. No bond though.” Viktor was tripping over himself, trying to get the explanation out. “I messed up with her. When I found out, I mean. I went completely feral on my friend’s partner. I drove my friend away. I don’t even know if she’s okay.” Viktor watched Yuuri’s shallow breathing with concern, “I won’t mess it up again.”

“You’re not,” said Yuuri, in between labored breaths. The feel of rough bark felt good against his back, he jammed himself behind Viktor’s shoulder, “Sorry,” sighing in relief when Viktor allowed it, even leaning back to offer ore support. “Thank you,” mumbled Yuuri into the back of Viktor’s shoulder. 

Viktor shot him a slanted look, “This bondmate. . .”

“Not Russian. American.” Yuuri leaned his head back, trying to ignore the nails scraping down his brain. “Left him.” Yuuri trembled when Ben tried digging in. “He’s angry. Furious.”

Viktor reached behind himself and grabbed Yuuri’s wrists that had been folded against his back, bringing them forward around his chest, “We’ll ride it out. Just hold on to me.”

With jagged breaths puffing against his nape, Viktor waited for Yuuri to make his decision, and then slim hands gripped him tight. Viktor sighed in relief and leaned back to press Yuuri gently into the tree.

“Don’t want to hurt you,” said Yuuri.

“Don’t insult me,” sniffed VIktor, flexing his stomach, “You can’t.” Yuuri’s trembling laughter brushed against Viktor’s skin, making him shiver.

“So impressive,” said Yuuri, laying his palms flat against Viktor’s abdomen, against the perfect washboard abs.

 “Very,” agreed Viktor, flexing his stomach again.

“C-can you keep talking?” asked Yuuri, wincing at another heavy hit from Ben. “Anything.”

“Of course,” Viktor lowered his voice, “So when I met you at Lilia’s my friend Chris was with me. He’s _such_ a good friend. He’s married to this wonderful omega who does a bunch of charity work. I know they’re incredibly, disgustingly in love—” Yuuri chuckled but then tensed up, breath shifting into soft pained panting,” but, and you’ll never hear this from _me_ , I’m like 85% sure they started dating because Chris needed the money. You see Chris grew up with his two grandmothers and was very poor. It was only when—”

Yuuri lay his head back, letting the tree bark scratch into his scalp, to remind him he was in Russia and not with Ben. He let Viktor’s voice wash over him, occasionally the pain overwhelmed him, and he had to squeeze the breath out of Viktor.

And just as predictably, Ben got bored of him when he got no more responses other than the flares of pain from Yuuri.

Viktor was still talking, but had placed a hand over Yuuri’s, stroking the skin of his hands.

“He’s gone. . .” Yuuri let Viktor go and grimaced at the stiff ache in his arms.

“Let me help you home,” said Viktor quietly.

“No, I can do it by myself.” Yuuri didn’t want to take up any more of Viktor’s time.

“In that case, call me if you need me to talk to you, okay? I’m sure you’ve guessed by now that I love hearing my own voice,” Viktor tried laughing, but to Yuuri it sounded like he was trying not to cry.

Yuuri’s vision was completely foggy, but it cleared up a bit when he gave himself a minute to recover. “Actually. . .I think I do need your help. If you don’t mind. Just to call a cab.”

“Not at all. Do you want help standing up?”

“No.”

“Okay.”

Viktor gracefully stood up and pulled out his phone to request a taxi.

Yuuri sat at the base of the tree, trying to shake feeling back into his arms and legs. Viktor had chosen a perfect spot for them. The tree had large roots to lean against and by sitting so close together, any passers-by would have immediately taken them for lovers sitting down for a cuddle. It was perfect, no one would have realized what was actually happening.

Slowly, Yuuri worked himself upright, using the tree as support.

“The cab will be here in a few minutes. Shall we, messer?” Gallantly, Viktor bowed, offering his arm.

Laughter bubbled up Yuuri’s throat, “You’re--" _so ridiculous, so thoughtful, so so so—“_ You’re not responsible for what your friend did,” said Yuuri, accepting Viktor’s arm. “Running away, I mean. She probably knew that what her girlfriend was doing was bad. I certainly knew Ben shouldn’t have been laying a hand on me. But she chose the girlfriend instead of a thoughtful friend, who obviously cared a lot about her.”

Viktor swallowed, mute for the moment.

“I wish someone had said something to me,” said Yuuri quietly, “But Ben and I were both so good at keeping things private and hidden. _Too_ good.”

Viktor squeezed Yuuri’s hand in the crook of his elbow but remained silent. When the cab came, Viktor released Yuuri and passed his satchel over once he was seated. Yuuri smiled at him and Viktor squeezed his shoulder, face soft.


	8. Chapter 8

Yuuri was completely exhausted when he arrived to Minako’s house. It was all Yuuri could do to thank the driver and make it upstairs. Brushing his teeth was too much work and even getting out of his clothes was impossible.

Yuuri threw his glasses to the side and face planted onto his pillow, instantly asleep, comforted by the lingering scent of Viktor on his clothes. Unaware of it, Yuuri curled up, hands wrapping around his stomach.

Although Yuuri slept like the dead, not even he could ignore the shrill ringing of his phone.

He fumbled in his jean pockets for his phone. _“Moshi moshi?”_ He mumbled into the pillow.

“Oh thank goodness.” Lilia breathed in relief and then spoke to someone else on her side. “He’s fine. Sounds like I awoke him.” She clicked her tongue, “Do you know what time it is, young man?”

Yuuri was instantly awake, “Sorry! No.” He yelped when he saw it was 3pm. “Oh no, I’m so sorry. Uh, I have no excuse.” At that moment his phone beeped, signaling low battery. Crap. “Madame Baranovskaya, I’m so sorry. I didn’t even realize we were meeting today.”

“We’re not,” said Lilia tersely, “It’s Viktor who came looking for you.”

“Oh fuck _. Ohmygosh_!” squealed Yuuri, “I am _so_ sorry Madame Baranovskaya.”

Lilia clicked her tongue, “Should I _speak_ with Viktor like I spoke to Plisetsky? He’s standing here looking guilty.”

“Uh, no. That won’t be necessary, thank you,” Yuuri paused in pulling some clean jeans on, debating whether he should tell her that Viktor and Plisetsky snapped at one another.

Lilia took his silence for something else because she said sternly, “I don’t want to see you in the office today. Take the day off. Take a nap.”

“What, _no_ , I’m fine!”

“I’m forbidding you from working today,” said Lilia, “You may come in tomorrow to make up for lost time.”

Yuuri floundered, his jeans around his knees, “Yes, madame... I’m sorry for cursing.”

“Apology accepted, get some rest. I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow morning.”

“Yes, of course! Thank you.” Yuuri hung up and pulled up the message thread with Viktor.

 

 

[ _You]:_ _I’m sorry! I forgot to text you last night that I made it home._

_[Viktor N.]:_ _Who cares about that,_

_I heard you drop the f-bomb on Lilia_

_:o_

_[You]:_ _I’m moving to Antarctica. Bye._

_[Viktor N.]:_ _Noooo (((_

_[You]:_ _Sorry, my fingers have already frozen off._

_[VIktor N.]:_ _RIP you’re hands_

_Now how are you going to draw?_

_[You]:_ _With my toes._

 

Yuuri debated whether he should just call the whole day a bust when he got another test message from Viktor.

 

 

_[Viktor N.]_

_Lilia’s threatening me with death. Help._

_SOS_

_SOS!!_

 

Yuuri laughed, falling back onto his bed, his jeans _still_ around his ankles

 

_[You]:_ _She is not._

_Tell her you have to come help me with groceries or something._

_[Viktor N.]:_ _She really is!_

_She said something about you having a great photoshoot in a few months?_

_And that I’m messing it up_

_???_

_I didn’t know you were a model!_

_Oops, she saw me_

 

 

Yuuri waited a few more minutes and when he didn’t receive any more messages from Viktor, decided to call him instead.

Lilia answered.

“Oh, um. Madame...”

“Viktor is busy at the moment.”

Yuuri swallowed, “Is he . . . alive?”

“Hale as a horse. Just running some meaningless errands in apology to me.”

“So uh,” Yuuri fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, “Are you really planning a photoshoot—”

“There’s a pregnancy catalog I wanted to include you in. Yes. Viktor has the ears of a wolf and has no shame in eavesdropping. Unfortunately. Don’t answer now but I’d like you to consider participating. It’s good money. And a good way to get your name in different circles.”

“Ah, right. I’ll think about it.” Yuuri was too exhausted to argue with anyone about anything.

“Excellent. And don’t worry, Viktor will be along to help you with ‘groceries of something’.”

Lilia hung up without warning.

..............

Yuuri waited nervously for Victor to message him while getting ready and then tidying up the house while he waited.

But the only warning he got was his doorbell ringing.

Bewildered, Yuuri slowly opened the door.

“Hi.” Since Viktor looked just as embarrassed and unsure as Yuuri felt, Yuuri backed away from the door. “Lilia sent me. She wants proof your fridge is stocked. Your house is very nice.” The stilted compliment made Yuuri smile.

“It’s my godmother’s,” stammered Yuuri, “Wow, Lilia really sent you?”

“She’s very vindictive,” said Viktor fervently. “Listen, after yesterday... Thanks for giving me another chance. I promise not to break your trust.”

Surprised, Yuuri nods, “Don’t worry about it. You can go, I’ll tell Lilia you stopped by.”

Viktor frowned, tipping his head to the side, “If you want me to go, I will. But I think it will be fun to go shopping together.”

Yuuri stepped back and surreptitiously watched Viktor close the door behind him, keeping to the small entrance mat, staring around at the tasteful décor.

“So. . . Any reason Lilia wants you for a photoshoot in a few months and not right now?”

Yuuri slipped on his shoes and grabbed his cloth grocery bags from the hallway closet. “I didn’t think she even knew I took modeling classes, to be honest.”

“You’re trained and never did a shoot?!” He looks so fascinated and curious that Yuuri momentarily forgets Viktor went feral just the day before. Viktor is clearly doing his best not to pounce on Yuuri with this delicious piece of information and shake the information out of him.

“Hah yeah. Actually... You inspired me to take the class. I was just never brave enough to put it to use.”

Viktor looks shocked, his fingers fly to the top button of his shirt to fiddles with. “I... did?”

Yuuri nods shyly. “In my second year at school I became a... hardcore fan of yours. I mean! I loved you before that but after your Prince/Pauper photoshoot I thought... I wished I could do something like that. Something _better_. But _with_ you. I... Oh no, why are you making that face?”

“I-I’m not making a face. This is my regular face.” Victor is grinning and blushing.

Yuuri covers his own face. “I’m definitely moving to Antarctica. Penguins won’t know how embarrassing I am.”

“No, no,” protested Victor, “Penguins won’t be so flattered by your love, besides how would you—”

They both jump when Viktor’s phone rings. The Russian that follows is quick and harsh, Victor’s voice pitching towards distressed. Yuuri is still learning the language, his stomach churning when he recognizes _‘hospital’_ several times.

Viktor hangs up, looking pale, but he smiles hard at Yuuri. “So. Shall we go?”

“ _Who was that?_ ”

“Ah...”

“Well?” A thrill runs up Yuuri’s spine every time he rises to challenge Viktor and isn’t immediately struck down.

“It’s my aunt. She’s in the hospital, but she’s fine. It’s fine.”

“Viktor, no. You need to go.”

“Rain check?”

“Of course!”

“Promise?”

Viktor wanted Yuuri to reassure him that they would get another chance to amend things, to reconnect. It was sweet. “Of course, now go. Come back for dinner after--Agh sorry, you’ll probably want to be with your family.”

“No,” said Viktor quickly, “I’d actually really appreciate the invitation. Thank you.”

Yuuri is tongue tied and embarrassed, so he just nods and waves as Viktor climbs into a non-descript black car and drives away.

There’s no reason to change his plans so Yuuri double checks the address of the farmer’s market and starts walking. The beautiful weather also does wonders for his mood, his bond with Ben has been silent. Maybe it will dissolve before the baby arrives. Yuuri hopes it does.

The closer he gets to the market the thicker the crowd gets and the more nervous he grows. He tries to calm himself by thinking of Minako and focusing on getting what he needs. He keeps his gaze low.

It’s why he doesn’t recognize the familiar scent until he’s almost on top of them. Nose itching, Yuuri looks up from the apples he’s choosing in order to root out the person whose scent he recognizes.

Yuri Plisetsky.

Not even three feet away.

Yuuri’s about to flee. Crawl if he must to get away without being noticed.

Plisetsky is pawing through mangos, occasionally lifting one up to smell. The alpha turns towards an older man that’s with him, tenderly adjusting the older man’s cap. “Deda. Your cap is falling off. This one looks good, right?”

Yuuri wonders if it’s his grandfather or uncle or something. Yuuri doesn’t recognize the word in his still limited Russian. A name? A title?

Deda is trying to lead Yuri away from the mango stand, unsuccessfully, when another patron bumps into the older man, spilling juice.

Yuuri waits for Plisetsky to go feral but... It never happens. He makes sure Deda is alright and then darts away, presumably for something to clean up with.

But he’s left Deda with about ten shopping bags in the middle of the thoroughfare. Yuuri starts sweating as he watches the older man struggle to move out of the way.

“Fuck.” Yuuri moves quickly, shouldering his own things. “Hello Deda. Let me help you. I saw Yuri run off.” Awkwardly Yuuri trails off, shrugging.

Deda blinks up at Yuuri in confusion.

“S-sorry. Messer Plisetsky? Oh shoot, is that a patronymic? It’s not your name? Or should I call you—um... Crap.” Yuuri’s Russian crumbles under the people bumping into them and Deda’s scrutinizing gaze.

The older beta laughs, patting Yuuri’s arm. “There, there. You can keep calling me Deda. You know my grandson?” He speaks slowly for Yuuri’s sake.

Still flustered and trying to shoulder his own bags and Deda’s, Yuuri stammers. “F-from work. But he’s with Feltsman and I’m with Lilia—uh.”

“So you’re a model!” Deda looks delighted.

Yuuri laughs at the ridiculous notion, “Should we move?”

“Oh yes, thank you. And your name...?”

Dismayed with his own rudeness, Yuuri gives his name and bows at Deda who seems more and more charmed with his social ineptitude.

They finally make it to a bench and Yuuri collapses, feeling dizzy.

“Are you alright?” asked Deda, rubbing his arm. “When my wife was pregnant she was always feeling poorly unless I was nearby.”

“A-ah?” Yuuri shrinks away from Deda, hand going to his belly. “How did you—”

Deda tweaks his own nose, “I’ve got a good sniffer and after raising three omega grown daughters you tend to memorize that. . . . peculiar scent. Earthy and rich.”

Yuuri blushed, is _that_ what he scented as? Loam and dirt?

Deda rubbed Yuuri’s back, “Are you alright, dear one?”

“Y-yeah!” choked out Yuuri, “Could you not say anything? I haven’t told anyone at work about it. Her.”

“Of course! I love keeping secrets.” Deda’s face softened, “Her? The baby is a girl?”

“W-well... I’m only eight weeks. So I don’t really know.”

“I see.”

Yuuri relaxed against Deda, realizing that he was being calmed with the beta’s scent.

“Thank you . . .” said Yuuri, quietly.

“Here you are Deda—Oh, _oh—”_ Yuri stops in his tracks, staring at Yuuri. “What the _hell_ are you doing here?”

“Yuri Anton Plisetsky!”

Yuri turns brick red. “S-sorry it’s just—”

“I would think you’d treat a fellow model with respect,” said Deda, accepting a wash cloth from Yuri. He proceeded to dab at his thick coat.

“O-oh no,” said Yuuri quickly, “I’m not a model. I only design clothes and sets, but I’ve never actually modeled. Hah, I think I’d die of embarrassment.”

Deda snaps his thick fingers, “Ah! I _thought_ you looked familiar—”

“Deda,” growled Yuri in warning.

“I think Yura has a few posters of you in his room. That’s close enough to being a model!”

“Oh my god,” Yuri slumps onto the bench on Deda’s other side.

Yuuri feels his face heat up. “Oh. I did interviews a few years ago, maybe that’s it. Deda, I don’t think that wash cloth is doing much.” He touched Deda’s coat gently.

“I think you’re right,” sighed Deda, “Wait here while I try and clean up in the bathroom. Won’t be a minute.”

Yuuri looks away the second Deda is gone.

“You only recently learned, Russian, right?” Yuri sounds like he’s being strangled, the words tight in his throat.

“Is that a problem?” Finally, Yuuri has the courage to look over and is surprised to find Yuri blushing.

“No! It’s just— Do you know the word for grandfather?”

“Dedushka.”

“And the diminutive?” Yuri looks at him meaningfully

“ . . . It’s Deda isn’t it?” Yuuri drops his head back onto the bench.

“Yeah.”

“Of fucking course it is.” Yuuri covers his face. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t,” said Yuri tightly, “You’re not the one who should be apologizing. I should be the one... I was a complete ass. I don’t blame you for hating me.”

“I don’t hate you,” interrupted Yuuri, “I was scared.”

“That I’d hurt you?! So it’s even worse, you think I’m an animal!” Yuri punched the bench. Yuuri flinched and scooted away. Yuri blanched and lowered his fist. “Fuck,” he whispered.

“Boys, I don’t think the coat can be saved. What’s going on here?” Deda sat in between them, looking from one to the other.

“N-nothing,” said Yuuri, “I’m sorry Mr. Plisetsky, you must think I’m incredibly rude, I didn’t know Deda meant. . .”

Deda laughed, “No don’t be embarrassed. You may also call me Deda Nikolai if you wish.”

“What about Mr. Nikolai?”

Deda looked injured. “Ah, I see.”

“I just don’t want to presume!” said Yuuri quickly, “But if it’s okay with you, then Deda is fine.”

Nikolai beams. “Great!”

“Ah, may I see your coat?”

Puzzled, Nikolai hands it over while Yuuri looks at the juice stain. “Uhm, what exactly is the composition of the coat?”

“Wool,” said Nikolai stoutly, “Viktor gave it to me for my birthday.”

“I can work with that. Deda, if you let me I can fix this up at home.”

“Perfect! We’ll finish shopping and then accompany you home.”

“Deda,” growled Yuri, “Katsuki is probably busy.”

“Oh. . .”

Yuuri’s fingers dig into the coat. “Actually, I’m not busy. You’re more than welcome for dinner.” He winced, first Viktor now Deda and Yuri. _Yuri_. This was going to be a mess.

Yuri looks like he’s been hit by a bus, but Deda nods as if this is what he expected. “Close your mouth Yura and help us buy dinner.”

“Yes, Deda.” They grab their bags and dive back into the frenzy of the market.

Nikolai was perceptive, abruptly deciding to leave them alone for a few minutes while he fetched some meat.

“Listen,” said Yuri bluntly, “You should have told me your mate was abusive or whatever.”

Yuuri’s mouth falls open. “What . . .”

“How was I supposed to know?” asked Yuri heatedly, “You left it all up to me to figure out.”

The market stall swims in front of Yuuri, his hands shook. “You’re a piece of work. I can’t believe Deda thinks you’re a good person.”

Yuri freezes, looking guilty. “I know I shouldn’t have yelled at you, but how is it my fault—”

“You shouldn’t have done it in the first place!” hissed Yuuri.

“Shouldn’t have done what?” Nikolai came up behind Yuri, looking suspiciously at his grandson.

“U-uuhm. . .”

“Ahhh, you see. . .”

Yuri turned, head bowed. “I wasn’t nice to Yuuri.”

“It’s alright,” said Yuuri quickly, trying to save face, “It was a mistake.”

“Ah, and you apologized, so all’s well. Right?”

“Yes, that’s right,” said Yuuri but fell silent at Yuri’s cutting glare.

“No, I haven’t apologized,” he admitted to his grandfather.

Nikolai looked at Yuri carefully and then Yuuri, who looked away. “Yura. Go home.”

“But _Deda_.”

“Please,” said Nikolai quietly, “I would like to talk with Yuuri alone. Take the car with you.”

Yuri nodded tersely and stalked off, shoulders hunched.

Nikolai wound his arm into Yuuri’s, “Let’s call a taxi and get you home.”

.....

.....

Nikolai gave Minako’s house a critical once-over as they walked up to the front gate. “Is this your mate’s?”

Oh jeez, _this_ conversation again. “No, it’s my godmother’s. I don’t have a mate.”

Nikolai hummed, looking like he had more questions.

Yuuri unlocked the front door and bowed Nikolai inside. “Shall we get dinner started? I really _do_ want to invite Yuri to dinner. As a way to start over, I guess.” Yuuri tried smiling brightly for Nikolai.

“But you’re afraid of him,” said Nikolai flatly.

Yuuri’s sigh punched out of him involuntarily. He kicked his shoes off and went to dump their groceries onto the kitchen table, leaving Nikolai to slip his shoes off.

“Not him specifically,” called Yuuri loudly, taking advantage that Nikolai couldn’t see him. He was sorting the vegetables into the fridge when Nikolai walked in. “I came to Russia to get away from,” Yuuri paused, struggling to figure out what to tell Deda, why Deda would care about a stranger.

“Your family?” guessed Deda, laying a hand on Yuuri’s shoulder.

Yuuri’s laughter felt hopeless. “No. I left America to get away from an abusive boyfriend. An alpha.”

“And your family is here,” stated Nikolai, making it an inquiry with the frown on his face, “This is your family’s house?”

“Sort of.” Yuuri chewed on his lip, “My godmother lives here but the rest of my family is in Japan.”

Nikolai pondered this for a long time.

“I’m here to work,” said Yuuri when he couldn’t stand the silence. He started washing potatoes. “I just want to be left alone . . . Is that,” Yuuri paused, feeling young and stupid. “ _Should_ I be looking for a mate? I know my parents are going to disown me the instant they hear that I’m trying to work while pregnant. Am I a bad person that I don’t want a mate?” Yuuri clamped his eyes shut. Crap.

Nikolai froze, mouth twisting into a grimace. “No, of course not.” Nikolai wrapped an arm around Yuuri. “I should offer my own apologies. I did not mean to pry. I thought you and Yuri were friends.”

“I’m _trying_ ,” said Yuuri, not realizing he was crying until he tried to laugh, “He’s just so angry at me and I don’t know why.”

“Well,” said Nikolai slowly, “I can’t help with that. He needs to explain that. Preferably after a night alone so he has time to think about his actions.”

Yuuri laughed sincerely, scrubbing his face, “Nooo, please Deda, what if he doesn’t have dinner at all? I’d feel terrible.”

Nikolai levelled a thoughtful look at him, “He’s been a brat and you are still trying to be kind to him. My Yura is truly lucky with the friends he makes. I don’t know how he does it. He is a difficult man, but somehow people like you and Vitya and Beka seem to see past that.” Nikolai gave him a watery smile.

“I don’t know,” said Yuuri, honestly. “Somehow he’s friends with Viktor who’s been great and you’re a wonderful person too. I guess I’m just curious about him when he isn’t busy yelling at me.”

Nikolai winced. “Don’t feel obligated to do so.”

“We’ll see,” said Yuuri, “I still want to invite him to dinner.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> Unexpectedly this chapter turned into something completely different!  
> I hope you still enjoy it ٩(｡•́‿•̀｡)۶  
> Writing has really gotten me through some rough patches this year so I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoy writing it!

Once they have everything simmering on the stove Nikolai starts making coffee and instructs Yuuri to bring him the small paper bag he left on the far counter.

“Open it,” said Nikolai with sparkling eyes.

Yuuri peeked in and gasped. Neatly folded inside was a green onesie with an attached hood. It was tiny. “Is this for me?” Yuuri shoves his glasses up his face, blinking back tears.

Nikolai smiled, “Well it might be a bit small for you but...”

“Thank you!” Yuuri swept forward to hug Nikolai tightly. “It’s _beautiful,_ Deda. Thank you.” He sniffled.

“What’s this, my boy? Tears?” Puzzled, Nikolai brushed Yuuri’s face carefully.

“S-sorry.” Yuuri shrank, his face felt hot under Nikolai’s calloused hands. What must Deda think of him? “I’m happy, I promise.”

“It’s still early,” said Nikolai with a knowing look, “Why don’t we take a nap and by then it will be late enough for dinner.”

“Is it really okay with you if I invite Yuri?”

“It’s your house,” said Nikolai with a laugh, “Here. Let me give you his number.”

He sets Nikolai up in the guest bedroom downstairs and curls up in his own bed, hugging the tiny onesie. There are pastel-colored frogs all over it and the bottom of the feet are frog pads, the hoodie has big cartoon frog eyes painted over the lip. Yuuri cries into the onesie at how small it is.

Yuuri is dozing when his alarm chirps and immediately texts Yuri his address along with the invitation for dinner.

_[Yuri P.]:_ _Did my grandpa make you invite me?_

_[Yuuri]:_ _What do you care?_

It’s abrasive and Yuuri waits with morbid fascination to see how Yuri responds. Has Ben turned him into some sort of masochist? Waiting in fascination for someone to strike him down?

 

 

_[Yuri P.]: B_ _ecause I hate that I’ve been acting like your ex or whatever_

_That person hit you, right?_

_And I’ve been acting like them_

_[Yuuri]:_ _Yes_

_[Yuri P.]:_ _I’m apologizing._

_I don’t think I can come to dinner_

_Have to think about some things_

_[Yuuri]:_ _You have to come pick up Deda anyway,_

_just come to dinner._

_And apologize in person._

_It’s not that hard._

_Viktor already apologized._

 

Yuuri was pretty sure using Viktor was considered goading but he was alarmed at how effective it was.

 

 

_[Yuri P.]:_ _That fucker._

_Fine._

_I’ll be there in 30mins._

Yuuri massaged his forehead, he didn’t need to have such difficult friends. He could have just _not_ invited Plisetsky.

He changed into something more comfortable and loose before heading downstairs to find Deda still fast asleep in the guest bed. His scent is comforting and Yuuri wishes he could curl up just under his arm to sleep for a few hours, knowing he was completely safe. Instead he brushed Deda’s hair back. “Yuri agreed to dinner. I’m going to make some tea for us in the meantime.”

Nikolai stretched and nodded happily.

Humming, Yuuri made his way to the kitchen, feeling happier and lighter than when he’d laid down. He liked knowing that Deda was only a couple rooms away. It would have been better if Minako was here . . . Yuuri cocked his head while he planned.

She could take the upstairs guest bedroom. But Deda would want Yuri nearby. So Minako could have the master bedroom and Yuri the upstairs guest. He supposed Viktor could sleep with Yuri or Yuri could bunk with Deda. Of course, Yuuri would get the nesting room. Wait, there was the extra office. That could _easily_ be converted into a bedroom for someone.

“Yura?”

Yuuri gasped, not realizing he’d drifted off day dreaming. “S-sorry Deda, uhm. The water is hot.”

“You were thinking of something, what was it?”

“AH! Nothing!”

Luckily the front doorbell rang before Deda could dig in with another question. Yuuri made good on his escape.

“Your house is really fucking fancy.” Yuri’s greeting was punctuated by him shoving a potted plant into Yuuri’s hands.

“Uhm, thanks.”

Yuri tapped his toes impatiently, “Well?”

“Well what? These are nice, thanks.” Yuuri thumbed along the foliage, delighted with the small but fragrant jasmine flowers hidden amongst the greenery.”

“Can I come _in_.”

“Oh! Yeah.” Yuuri leapt back.

Yuri paused in the entranceway, eyeing the fancy paintings and clearly expensive furniture of the visible sitting room. “Are you rich?”

Yuuri sighed and lead the way to the kitchen, Yuri only pausing long enough to kick his shoes off. “Hey, who the hell gave you this—Deda!”

Nikolai waved a sauce-covered wooden spoon at Yuri. “Is this how I raised you to be?”

Yuri shrugged and shot Yuuri a filthy look when the omega laughed.

Yuuri grinned. “It’s okay Deda, I’m used to it.”

Both Nikolai and Yuri freeze. Nikolai turns away, intent on stirring their dinner so it doesn’t burn. Yuri takes a deep breath and musters all his good sense.

“Katsuki, can I talk to you. Alone.” Yuri thinks Katsuki looks like an idiot, still holding onto the plant. Katsuki nods and leads Yuri to a dusty office. They stare at each other for a few seconds in the dark because Katsuki refused to stop hugging the plant and flip on any switches.

“I know I’m an asshole, but I promise to stop being one to you. There. Are we cool?”

Yuuri snorted.

“Did your ex really hit you?”

Yuuri locked up, arms tightening around the plant, “I’m not lying about it, if that’s what you’re thinking!”

“No,” said Yuri harshly, “I just . . .I can’t believe someone would lay a hand on you.” At that moment Yuri looked all of 19 and foolishly naive. “You’re. . . you. He must have been jealous.”

Yuuri blinked at the back-handed compliment. “I’d rather be washed out than get treated like that.”

“That’s not what I meant!”

Yuuri’s breath quickened at Yuri’s raised voice.

“Shit.” Yuri bowed his head, “Shit, look I’m sorry. I have an awful temper.”

“And you’re standing in front of the door,” said Yuuri quietly. Yuri’s eyes widened and he leapt aside.

A quiet knock interrupted them.

Deda poked his head in, “Dinner’s ready also... Did you invite another guest? They’re knocking at the door.”

“Shit,” said Yuuri, darting around Deda, putting the plant down.

Yuri followed him, “Hey. We’re not done talking, I haven’t even—”

Yuuri ignored him and opened the front door.

Viktor was already pale, but when he caught sight of Yuri, his mouth fell open.

Yuuri put a stop to the impending blow-up by pushing Yuri back into the house and pulled the door shut behind him, stepping out with Viktor into the chilly night air. “I can explain. _Please_ don’t be angry.”

Viktor took a step down on the stairs. “I’m sorry I ever gave the impression that I could be angry with you. Plisetsky is obviously here because you invited him. Did he proposition you or something?”

He winked.

“Unbelievable,” said Yuuri, pushing Viktor back so he landed another step lower. “ _No_ , he did no such thing. I met his Deda and . . .?” Yuuri flapped his hands, “I’m not even sure how this happened but I’m glad?”

Viktor tipped his head back to laugh and Yuuri was fascinated to see that his bottom teeth were quite crooked. It wasn’t apparent in any of the photoshoots Yuuri had obsessed over nor in any interviews he’d drooled over either.

“Come on, or dinner will be late.”

Viktor now covered his laugh, eyes crinkling. “Lead on.”

.....

.....

Viktor of course, immediately leveraged Nikolai as insurance that Yuri would behave.

“So, Yura,” cooed Viktor, making Yuri freeze, slices of meat sliding off his fork, “Did you get my Yuuri to invite you to dinner by admitting that you’ve wallpapered your room with his face?”

Yuri is out of his seat so fast that Viktor barely has time to duck under the table, giggling like a child.

“Yuri!” Nikolai stands up as well, “You’re being rude.”

“ _Me?_ I’m going to kill you, Viktor!” He almost dove under the table until he caught sight of Yuuri. Instead taking a step back and a deep breath. “I’m going to kill you at home,” said Yuri quietly, “Without witnesses.”

“Or innocents present?” Asked Yuuri acidly, drawing a quick smile from Yuri.

“Whatever. Viktor. _Stop crawling_ around the floor. You’re not a dog.”

Finally, Viktor emerged on the other side of the table, his face wet with tears from laughing. “I’m sorry for ruining your dinner, Yuuri.”

“I don’t think you’re sorry at all.”

“It was pretty funny,” insisted Viktor, his clear eyes shining earnestly.

Yuuri patted his hand, “Can you two behave now?”

“Viktor started it,” said Yuri crossly, “And I’ll be fucked if I don’t finish it.”

Nikolai snorted into his plate and Yuuri hid his smile behind a hand, feeling strangely giddy.

Thankfully, Deda intervened and asked Viktor and Yuri about any upcoming photoshoots they were a part of.

“Nothing for me,” said Viktor cheerfully, “I’m working with Yuuri on changing that though. I’m producing photoshoots now.”

Yuri gripped the table, mouth twitching with a hidden snarl. With difficulty he sucked in whatever curse words were about to drip out. “I just finished off the Greek statue thing with Beka.”

Nikolai nodded, “I remember the proofs. And you, Yuuri?”

“Ah, I—Well Lilia has me working on some costumes for a play. I don’t really understand what they were going for, I think post-apocalyptic? But I designed a few swan costumes for children that came out pretty interesting.” In truth, Yuuri had loved designing the costumes for some weird, avante garde retelling of Swan Lake. “They invited me to one of their showings.”

“So cool!” gushed Viktor, “You’ll have to show me your designs.” He turned towards Nikolai. “My Yuuri’s sketch of Yura—”

“Why do you keep calling him _yours?_ ” snapped Yuri, hackles raised.

“I’d like to see this sketch,” said Nikolai loudly.

Viktor nodded gleefully at Nikolai, before glancing slyly at Yuuri. “I keep looking over the sketchbook you gave me, you know. I know they’re just drawings but, Viktor sighed, eyes shining. “I am quite inspired by them.”

“O-oh, thank you.”

Yuri gripped his fork like a weapon, “It doesn’t mean you get to call him yours!”

“It’s just confusing,” whined Viktor, “Two Yuris! It feels so impersonal to use your last names now that we’re all friends!”

“I’ve just been calling him, Yura,” said Nikolai pointing to his grandson.

“We can call this one Yuranya!” said Viktor, patting Yuuri’s arm.

“What! That’s _worse_ ,” snapped Yuri, “That’s _way_ too familiar! Ugh! No.”

Yuuri gulped when they all turned to look at him and he smiled nervously. “W-well... Since I’m older shouldn’t I be just Yuuri? And he can be Yura?”

Although Viktor pouted, Nikolai seemed to agree and that ended their discussion, and soon after dinner ended too.

“I bought wine,” said Yuri smugly.

Viktor looked at him sharply, “But we can’t drink since we drove here.”

“ _One_ of us can’t drink,” corrected Yuri, “Deda can drive me home. Here, Yuuri. Let me pour you—”

Yuuri gave Deda a panicked look. “I don’t drink,” said Yuuri quickly, feeling bad about destroying Yuri’s good intentions. “S-sorry.”

Instantly Yuri backed off, “I’m not mad. I just thought it would be fun.”

Viktor huffed and crossed his arms. “I suppose we could just leave the cars here and get a taxi home.”

“O-or you could stay the night?” Yuuri held onto himself for dear life. “It wouldn’t be a problem. There are a enough spare rooms.”

“What a wonderful idea,” said Viktor, then turned to Yuri, “Crack it open my friend.”

“As long as you keep your clothes on, you pervert.” Yuri looked pleased, “I want to stay too. Deda, can we?”

Nikolai turned towards Yuuri, his old face creased in concern. While Yuri and Viktor squabbled over the wine glasses, he asked quietly. “Do you have somewhere safe to sleep? Not that I don’t trust them but, you might feel uncomfortable with their scents lingering around here.”

Yuuri seriously doubted their scents would disturb him, but was quick to reassure Deda. “I have a nest room, Deda. Don’t worry.” Nikolai nodded in relief, following Yuuri to the living room.

Viktor glanced at Yuri once Nikolai and Yuuri were gone. “Did you cast some weird hex on him or something?”

“Fuck off,” grumbled Yuri, splashing wine into three glasses.

“Also, is my Yuuri calling Nikolai, Deda?” Viktor’s voice was a razor’s edge, and his eyes were cold.

“Yeah, so _what_. And he’s _not_ yours,” growled Yuri.

“Yuri.”

He shivered at the rough texture of Viktor’s voice, it was the pressure and command of a mature alpha. Yuri didn’t resist when Viktor gripped his chin and turned their faces together. “He’s not yours either.”

He yanked out of Viktor’s light grip, hands shaking. “I know that! I don’t even want that fat fuck so—so I don’t even know what you’re talking about!”

Genuinely puzzled, Viktor cocked his head, still keeping Yuri rooted to the ground with the force of his scent. “You don’t like Yuuri because he’s fat?”

“No!” Yuri worked his jaw up and down but said no more, his face steaming with embarrassment. “It’s not like that. He’s not even fat! I thought he’d given up.” Yuri was breathing hard, “ _You_ gave up.”

Viktor turned towards the counter, leaning on it, and released Yuri from his hold. “I see. In order to motivate him to return to work you decided to attack him.”

“It would have worked too if he didn’t have such shitty taste in mates,” muttered Yuri.

Viktor stopped breathing, staring at Yuri with wide eyes. “You know about that?”

“It doesn’t take a Living Legend to figure it out,” said Yuri with an eyeroll. “Plus his super ugly caked-on make up is hideous. With a house like this you’d think he could afford the good shit to cover up any bruises—”

“Yuri,” said Viktor in warning.

“ _What_ , it’s true!”

“What’s true?” Yuuri and Nikolai reappeared.

“Your make up is hideous,” said Yuri instantly, eliciting an eyeroll from everyone.

Yuuri grimaced, “Well it’s better than having small children point to my black eye and ask me what happened.

Yuri squirmed under his Deda’s icy glare.

Yuuri shook his head, looking disappointed and _that_ made Yuri’s stomach churn unpleasantly. “Anyway, I was just going to show Deda the upstairs rooms where you two will be sleeping. Come on.”

Viktor asked about the paintings and decor which Yuuri admitted he didn’t know much about since it was his godmother’s house.

“Why did she give you this house?” asked Yuri.

“She needed a house sitter,” said Yuuri, “First door on the left’s the bathroom. This one on the right is the guest. It’s yours, Yura.”

“Sweet.” Yuri poked his head in, “Looks nice.”

“The next door to my right is the main office. It’s where I usually work if I’m home.”

Viktor playfully shook Yuuri’s arm, “Can I look? Just a peek?”

“Uhm, well if you really want to...”

Both Viktor and Yuri darted into the office and spent a few minutes just silently looking at the framed pieces on the walls. And they were both thoughtful once they came out, which made Yuuri nervous. “The door at the end is the master bedroom. You can take that room, Viktor.”

Yuri hissed, “ _What?”_

“Are you sure?” asked Viktor peeking into the master bedroom carefully, taking a careful and quick inventory at the size and beauty of it.

“I’m sure. I know it’s the master bed and it’s bigger, but most nights I sleep in this room. The door across the office.” Yuuri touched the only sliding door of the house. “This is my room. Don’t go inside. Don’t touch the door and don’t linger in front of the door either. If you have to walk past then do so quickly.”

“What? That’s so weird.” Yuri looks like he’s about to break every rule Yuuri just laid out.

“Yura,” said Nikolai in a low growl, making both Viktor and Yuri step back.

“Th-thank you Deda.” Yuuri with a small smile. “That’s just how things work,” Yuuri felt his voice shake but it was important for both Viktor and Yuri to understand, “You can leave if you want, but you _have_ to follow those rules.”

“I understand,” said Viktor easily, “Yura?” Although his voice was light, he laid a hand on Yuri’s shoulder in warning.

“Whatever. You’re really fucking weird.”

“Let’s get back downstairs,” said Viktor, hustling everyone back to the landing, “I filled your wine glass with some mango juice, Yuuri.”

“How kind of you,” Yuuri grinned.

“That’s me,” agreed Viktor cheerfully, both hands on Yuri’s shoulders as he steered the younger alpha downstairs, “Now Nikolai, _yours_ I filled with some cheap vodka I found in Yuuri’s godmother’s cabinets. I think you’ll like it.”

Nikolai instantly nodded at the idea. Yuuri found himself curled up with Nikolai on the loveseat, his knees folded over Nikolai’s lap and arms around the older beta who accepted it all as natural. Like it was normal to be cuddling Yuuri while Viktor and Yuri lounged on the floor, gossiping about their coworkers.

“Is this okay Deda?” asked Yuuri softly, rubbing his cheek across Nikolai’s shoulder.

“Of course, Yura.” Nikolai tipped his head towards Yuuri, “You need family right now. I’m sorry it took so long for me to reach you. I’m getting on in my years, you see.”

Relief made his arms weak, Yuuri cuddled closer allowing Nikolai’s scent to drape gently over him. The warmth of the room made him drowsy, and he didn’t feel pressured to join in on the conversation. Rather, he allowed Deda’s voice to flow over him, ears perking up whenever he heard Viktor’s melodic baritone. Yuri’s voice was the least of his concerns, although the young alpha might be a threat to the nest.

Yuuri tensed up at the thought, but Nikolai smoothed his hand over Yuuri’s knee, crooning to him. At some point, Yuuri realized his neck was aching and he woozily shuffled upright.

“Oh, welcome back to the land of the living,” Viktor teased him, putting his phone down and wrinkling his nose.

“Ha-ah,” Yuuri tried, and failed, to suppress a yawn, “What time is it.”

“Late,” replied Viktor collecting the empty wine glasses and bottle. “You and Nikolai are very sweet together.”

“I guess. . .” Yuuri blushed.

Viktor held up a hand, “You don’t have to explain it to me. I just appreciate being invited. It’s nice! I haven’t had dinner at someone’s house in a long, long—”

“What are you yapping about, old man?” Yuri struggled upright, wincing from falling asleep on the floor. “Ugh, my back.“

“I was saying that it’s time to put the children to sleep. Help your Deda while I clean up the dishes.”

“What about me?” asked Yuuri, just to be a nuisance, but Viktor took only a second to come up with a job.

“Make sure the doors and windows are locked.”

Stifling a giggle, Yuuri did just that before heading upstairs, he was brushing his teeth in the guest bathroom when Viktor leaned on the doorsill, looking worried.

“Are you sure it’s alright for me to use the master bedroom?”

Yuuri wiped his mouth, “Yes. I’m sure. Like I said, I have the other room.”

“Nest room?”

Yuuri’s hands spasmed on the towel he was holding. He nodded.

“Yura probably didn’t recognize the room for what it was. Do you sleep there because you miss your parents?”

Yuuri relaxed, relieved but also annoyed Viktor had gotten so close but missed the mark by a mile. “Partially. Any other guesses?”

“No,” admitted Viktor with a sheepish grin, “Just a stab in the dark. Fishing, as it were.”

Yuuri leaned against the door and laughed, “Amazing.”

“Hey, that’s my line!”

“Is Yuri still helping Deda?”

“I think so, why?”

“I want some blankets from the master bedroom but I don’t want him to think I’m sneaking in there.”

“Yeah, that’s probably for the best.”

Yuuri’s neck was hot as he snuck around his own house, Viktor following close behind. The blankets he grabbed from the linen closet were bulky and for some reason his hind brain insisted he needed four extra ones.

When Yuuri struggled to balance all of the blankets, Viktor held his arms out and Yuuri automatically dumped three of the blankets onto him. And Yuuri didn’t hesitate in pulling Viktor into the nest room.

“You. . . You’re _really_ nesting.” Viktor gaped at the giant pile on the bed.

Yuuri shrugged and reluctantly took the blankets back, now that Viktor was in the nest room Yuuri wanted him _out._ HIs skin crawled at having a strange alpha so near his nest.

“I guess so. Good night.”

“Oh, uhm. Good night.” Viktor silently backed out of the room and Yuuri exhaled in relief.

....

....

Once Deda was tucked into bed he slowly climbed the stairs, feeling the half-bottle of wine humming pleasantly through his veins. He was about to check the bathroom to see if Yuuri had mouth wash or something when he noticed Viktor’s door was opened. Yuri glanced at the sliding door for only a second before running down the hallway.

“Can’t sleep?”

Viktor sat at the edge of the bed, hair mussed and eyes a bit glassy. He seemed startled when Yuri appeared at his door.

“Ah, I was just lost in thought.”

“Clearly.” With an eyeroll, Yuri dropped his weight onto the bed next to Viktor. “I can’t believe that idiot and Deda were cuddling like that on the couch.”

Viktor hummed, “Maybe they should have slept together. I think my Yuuri misses his family a lot more than he lets on.”

Yuri punched Viktor’s thigh, “I know you only call him that to piss me off. But why would Katsuki miss his family? This is his godmother’s house.”

The lighting of the room was easy on the eyes, Viktor rubbed his chin where he already had a bit of stubble. “No idea. Say... What _did_ you tell Yuuri in apology?”

“To be honest, I think the only reason he invited me was to spend more time with Deda.”

Viktor laughed, “Looks like you’ve failed in that little conquest, then. Will you be going back to Beka then?”

Yuri instantly bristled. “I _told_ you me and Beka aren’t like that!”

“Oh?” Viktor tugged on Yuri’s long hair and was instantly slapped back. “But you two are so cute together!”

“Shut up!” Yuri snarled but Viktor was instantly on top of him, smothering any noises he might make.

“Yuuri can _hear_ us,” said Viktor quietly, adding weight to the hand over Yuri’s mouth, “ _Behave._ ”

Yuri struggled for a moment, going red and trying to flip Viktor off him, when that failed he dug his nails into Viktor’s side, purposefully trying to hurt.

“Are you going to be quiet?”

Yuri bent a knee to try and leverage Viktor off him, but Viktor simply dropped his whole weight onto Yuri. “Are you calm?”

After a moment Yuri nodded and relaxed under Viktor, at which point Viktor rolled off him.

They were both panting and Viktor rolled away to give Yuri a second to recover.

“I hate you,” spat Yuri.

Viktor wondered if he could get away with mentioning the semi he felt from Yuri and decided not to press his luck. For Yuuri.

“Okay, I’m going to turn in.” Viktor stripped his shirt off and cooed at Yuri, “Good night Yuranya.”

Yuri slammed the door on his way out, making Viktor wince. Yuuri heard that for sure.

....

....

Viktor woke up to soft knocking on his door. Disoriented, he stumbled to the door and opened it. It was Yuuri, dressed nicely but face bare of make up. The lurid pattern of bruises were softening but still very obvious.

“Good morning.”

“Uhm!” Yuuri turned red and shot his eyes up to the ceiling, “Good morning.”

Viktor realized he was only dressed in his underwear and closed the door gently, “Uhm, just give me a minute to—”

“I’m not here to kick you out,” said Yuuri, “I just need the bathroom to get my make-up.”

Oh. Viktor crawled back into bed, curling under the warm comforter that faintly scented like Yuuri and even less distinctly of another person, his godmother probably. “Okay.”

Yuuri threw him an amused look before hurrying into the bathroom. “Did you sleep well?” He kept the bathroom door open as he rummaged around.

“Very! The bed is very comfortable. I appreciate you letting me sleep here.” Despite what Yuuri said, Viktor pulled on his jeans and shirt, leaving his belt with the wallet. He wandered around the room, feeling bolder now that Yuuri was present and could tell him to stop if he snooped too much.

“Well I wasn’t going to let Yuri sleep in here.”

Viktor snorted, “I don’t blame you.”

He was studying a photograph of a woman accepting an award when Yuuri reappeared at his side, his face smoothed back to gold, holding an eyeshadow palette in his hands. “How’s your aunt?”

Viktor blinked at Yuuri.

“She was in the hospital?” Yuuri gently reminded him.

“I didn’t think you’d remember.”

Yuuri gave him a crazed look and Viktor laughed. “Sorry. I just—” Viktor shrugged helplessly, “I usually don’t talk about my family to other people, and I figured that you wouldn’t be interested.”

“Is it because you’re not on good terms with your family?”

Quickly Viktor shook his head, “Oh no! I love my aunt, she’s the one who got me into modeling. And the one who supported me through school.” Viktor chuckled, “She stayed up with me for so many nights, forcing me to study. I had to retake math _three_ times.”

Yuuri grinned, noting that Viktor said nothing of his parents. “She sounds wonderful. I think she and Minako would have a lot in common.”

“Oh! This is her, right?” Viktor touched the edge of the photograph and smiled at Yuuri’s nod. “Is she your aunt too or something?”

“Nothing like that. She is—was—my mom’s best friend.” Yuuri noted the quick change in topic. “She wanted me to go into ballet but I was too shy to perform, I ended up backstage in costuming.”

Viktor nodded, wanting to end the conversation as well. “I bet she’s proud of you. When will Minako be back?”

“A few months, barring any delays,” said Yuuri fervently. He smiled at Viktor and went back into the bathroom to finish getting ready. “You’re more than welcome to stay for breakfast and hang out as long as you want but I have to leave for Lilia’s in a few minutes.”

“What about your breakfast?” Viktor followed him to the bathroom and watched Yuuri eye himself critically.

“No time.”

Viktor darted out of the room and ran down the stairs, if he was quick enough he could get some coffee and toast into Yuuri before he left. By the time Yuuri rushed downstairs, with his glasses hanging crooked, Viktor handed him a thermos of sweetened coffee and a fried egg on his toast.

“Have a good day sweetie. _Do_ try not to scare any of the interns,” said Viktor sweetly, trying not to laugh.

Yuuri took a giant bite of the toast in lieu of answering and ran out the door with a wave.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again!!!  
> I hope you enjoy this chapter! :)
> 
> Thank you for the super nice notes, I really treasure them! <3

He made it on time to Lilia’s and immediately picked up a stack of designs that he needed to choose fabrics for and then help the other apprentices cut out the patterns. Thankfully, none of the others wanted to speak with him, although they kept shooting him secretive looks. Yuuri just kept his eyes on his work. That was, until Mila bounced into the room with a bright smile.

“Yuuri! What are you doing with the apprentices? If you’ve finished all the patterning there’s no reason to hang out.”

“I’m helping,” said Yuuri lamely, although what Mila said was true.

“You’re _scaring_ them,” she grinned, “Anyway, Lilia is going to invite you to a small get-together at her house tonight in a couple of weeks. I’m going too it should be fun! Here’s your phone.” She went so far as to _hug_ him, which Yuuri begrudgingly accepted and returned. “Check your messages! Your phone’s been buzzing like mad. If we need anything else I’ll call you, okay?”

Sure enough his phone has a missed call from Yuri but also a few texts from Viktor. Viktor was checking in on him.

_[Viktor N.]: Still doing okay?_

_We cleared out a few hours after you left. Locked up and everything!_

_I made Yura wash the dishes._

_[Yuuri K.]: Thank you but that wasn’t necessary._

_I think I’m being shooed out today,_

_which is a shame._

_[Viktor N.]: If that’s the case then can I tempt you to finally make it into my office?_

_Actually sit at this really nice table?_

_I can bribe you with coffee and pastries._

 

 

Yuuri felt his belly start to grumble, coffee sounded nice even though he should stop drinking so much.

 

_[Yuuri K.]: Bribe accepted. Let me just finish up with Lilia and I’ll head over._

_Try not to be nice to Yura,_

_Deda wouldn’t appreciate you two getting into a fight._

_[Viktor N.]: Deda would thank me for correcting Yura’s behavior._

_And you should too! ;)_

 

............

...........

 

“Ah! You should have texted me,” pouted Viktor once Yuuri had timidly knocked on the glass door to his office. “I would have picked you up outside.”

Because he was very hungry, Yuuri ignored Viktor’s enthusiastic greeting in favor of rushing inside to stuff a pastry into his mouth.

“Oh—Are you hungry?”

“Mmf! Omff!”

“So articulate,” teased Viktor, but poured two fresh cups of coffee from a carafe and Yuuri throws half of it back.

“Wait, I hadn’t sweetened it!”

Yuuri coughs and manages to clear his throat, “ ‘S okay. Too hungry.”

Viktor is a little concerned at how desperate Yuuri is to eat so he refills Yuuri’s mug and adds some creamer before Yuuri can gulp it down.

It’s nice.

Viktor flips through the list of models he’s accrued, making little notes and nibbling on a jam-filled pastry while Yuuri devours another pastry.

“Are those the models?”

Viktor puts his mug down and slides the folder over. “It is. I have a few outfits in mind already.”

“That’s good, I do too.” Yuuri pushes his glasses up high onto his nose and squints at the models, his nose millimeters from the photos.

“What are you doing?”

“Oh!” Yuuri yanks himself back up, “It’s just how... Uhm.” He blushes, fidgeting with his fingers. His bag is still hanging off his shoulder.

Viktor grins, “Your methods are strange Messer Katsuki but who am I to judge? This is my first time being part of something like this.” He stands up and takes Yuuri’s bag, putting it on his desk by the window.

Now Yuuri looks around and his eyes start to glimmer with something more than embarrassment. He stands up and goes to the wall that’s plastered with Viktor’s past campaigns.

It’s a little embarrassing for Viktor, he simultaneously wants to impress Yuuri but he isn’t ready! His office is a bit messy right now and the omega wouldn’t approve. Viktor pinches himself to stop that line of thinking. “I don’t actually spend much time in here,” explained Viktor quickly, feeling defensive.

“No?” Yuuri only answers distractedly, “That’s sad. Your office is beautiful!”

“Ah, yes. I suppose it is.”

“Oh I loved this one,” said Yuuri softly, touching the edge of a poster in which Viktor wore a dark red jumpsuit embellished with bronze embroidery, tucked into knee-high leather boots. “It was really different. I think this is when I really started paying attention to your career.”

Viktor laughed, “Yakov was pissed I did that photoshoot. He said it was too niche and wouldn’t bring me anything of worth.”

Yuuri carefully regarded the photo of Viktor, his long limbs arranged in a careful display, ankles crossed but thighs parted in a sensual suggestion of what lay hidden below the jumpsuit. “I think he was wrong.”

Affectionately, Viktor bumped his shoulder against Yuuri’s, “I agree with you. Since you’re here now.”

“O-oh. I’m not anything special,” said Yuuri, “I’m just. . .a washed up wannabe designer. I never got to make my own designs a reality and I _guess_ I had potential but that.” Yuuri stops himself, shaking his head.

Viktor took a seat at the table, drawing out the various packets of photographs. “Why do you think I’m here? Just for fun? To mess with you?” Viktor bites his next words back, _Are you here just because I’m Viktor Nikiforov? Are you just a fan?_ “Why are _you_ here?”

Stunned, Yuuri just stares at Viktor. “I’m here because you asked for my work. I was excited to work _with_ you.” He waves at the photographs behind him, “Because some of your campaigns are so weird that they feel like something I would have made.” He takes a seat across form Viktor, “I want to prove that I’m not done, that I’m not broken.”

The seconds of silence are chilly until Viktor sighs. “Of course, you’re not broken. You never—”

“Not because of Ben, because of my own inherent weakness.” Yuuri covers his eyes, shoulders drooping. “I did ballet for years. I could have been _good_. But I couldn’t get past my own nervousness, my own brain telling me that I was going to fuck up in front of everyone, and I _did._ ”

Viktor laughed humorlessly, “So you found someone louder than your brain to tell you all those shitty things in person.”

Yuuri laughed too, bitter and tired. “God, I need to get a new therapist. Can’t even get back on my meds. . .”

They lapsed back into thoughtful silence.

“Let’s look at the outfits and pair a few of them up with the appropriate models, shall we? Then we can call it a day.”

Thinking of going back to the empty house made Yuuri wilt. “Sure. . .”

Viktor must have sensed the change. “Don’t feel like working?”

“It’s not that. Show me the folder of outfits while you look at mine.”

A few hours later Yuuri was both relaxed and keyed up. Working on a whole photoshoot with Viktor was exciting enough but having him so close was grating on Yuuri. Viktor was constantly flitting around the office or touching Yuuri to get his attention. Not that the light touches were intrusive, but it felt like Viktor treated him as a pressurized bomb ready to explode at the slightest provocation.

After a few hours of that Yuuri had to accept that he wasn’t going to get anything more done until he figured out how to deal with Viktor’s guarded treatment.

“I think I’m done for today,” admitted Yuuri, hoping Viktor wouldn’t be disappointed.

Viktor frowned, tapping a pen against his lips, “That’s fine. I’m getting a little tired too, if I’m honest. And Otabek’s hosting a party tonight, he insists I go.” Viktor sighed.

Yuuri was almost done packing up. “Why go if you don’t want to?”

“He’s Yuri’s best friend, kind of feel obligated. You should come to the party! You’d get to know everyone at the office. Everyone worth knowing at least.”

“Ah, maybe? I’m feeling a bit tired.”

“That’s too bad, Otabek’s parties are usually fun. Has Lilia invited you to her autumn feast yet?”

Yuuri slung his bag over his shoulder, “So. . . about Lilia.”

“Yes?”

“Is she with Yakov or. . .?”

Viktor barked out a laugh, “Hell if I know. Sometimes it seems like they’re together and next thing you know it’s been four months and they haven’t even called each other once.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah! If you want to keep gossiping I’m afraid we’ll have to do it next time. Yura just texted me if I could help move speakers and Otabek’s turntable.”

Yuuri laughed, stepping out of Viktor’s office, “Sounds like a big party for the middle of the week.”

“I know,” Viktor absently placed a hand in the middle of Yuuri’s back as they walked out, “I’m getting too old to run with those kinds of crowds. It’s why I wanted to step into production.”

The nerves in his back sizzled with each point of contact Viktor had at his back, so Yuuri almost missed what Viktor said. “Ah... You’re starting to feel old? But... You’re not even thirty!”

“Almost thirty,” groused Viktor, “And I feel it. I used to be able to stay up to crazy hours but now. . . And I’ve never _really_ enjoyed these kinds of parties so now that I don’t have the energy for them. It’s not a good combination.”

“Don’t go,” said Yuuri again, “Or go for five minutes and then pretend to get sick?”

“No,” said Viktor with a grim smile, “Thank you though. I can’t skip out _every_ party. If I go once or twice then everyone chalks it up to me being very snooty. It’s fine.”

Now that they were outside the building, Viktor’s hand dropped. “Do you want a ride home?”

“No thanks. I have to pick up some work from Lilia’s. I need the exercise too.” Yuuri’s breath caught when Viktor’s scrutinizing gaze worked him down. 

“I guess it’s not too cold for a short walk,” said Viktor slowly, “As to needing exercise. . .” Viktor shrugged, “In my opinion you look great, as is! Russia just suits you better than America. Has Lilia started giving you ideas for dresses? Or maybe she’ll put you and Mila into frocked suits.”

Seeing Viktor’s face melts into what was a clearly pleasant day dream, Yuuri elbowed him lightly, “Hey. I’ll send you a picture if you stop making that face.”

“I’m going to start thinking something is wrong with my beautiful face if you keep making fun,” pouted Viktor. “But yes! Please send me a picture. I’d like to see whether Lilia and I still have the same taste in dresses. She gave me that white L’Heursi dress I wore to my birthday a few years ago.”

Viktor knowingly smiled at Yuuri’s blush.

“I remember the photos. Unfortunately.”

The smile turned strained.

Yuuri backpedaled, “I mean! How the pap got into your house. You were obviously just celebrating with your friends. No one should have taken those pictures.”

Viktor’s whole chest compressed with the force of his sigh. “Luckily, no one really cared. My reputation didn’t suffer. Not where it mattered at least.”

“I wonder who let the paparazzi into your house.”

The valet arrived with Viktor’s car, “Don’t worry, zaichik. They were reprimanded. See you!”

“Did you just call me _bunny?”_

“Ah! Your Russian is coming along so well!” With a mischievous smirk, Viktor hopped into car and sped off.

……….

……….

Otabek’s house was really his parent’s. For the party they took down all the family pictures and priceless antiques to store in a back room behind a locked door. Viktor happily helped with this because it gave him time to sneak text message to Yuuri who, just as predicted, was being fitted for a custom dress to wear to Lilia’s autumn feast.

Yuuri kept sending him frowny and crying faces. But also gushing about the expertise of the tailor and the drape of the dress.

_[You]: Send pics!_

 

_[Yuuri! <3]: It’s not even finished yet._

Pouting, Viktor reluctantly put his phone away as the food arrived and helped Otabek set everything up in the dining room.

“Just a heads up, Yura’s rut is going to be soon and I’m not going to be in town.”

Viktor paused, “Oh? Usually Yura would just travel with you.”

Otabek nodded, grimacing. “Not this time though, I’m going home for something important. And I can’t be smelling of rut.”

“Huh. I’ll be sure to keep my eye on the kitten.”

A smile from Otabek, he gave Viktor a thumbs up. If Otabek was going to reveal the mysterious circumstances of traveling home they were cut off by guests arriving. Viktor tucked his phone away, determined to be pleasant.

More than one person tried to ply him with alcohol but Viktor politely refused, citing that he had to get up very early tomorrow.

Probably because he abstained from drinking, Viktor felt on edge when someone would get too close and familiar. His thoughts kept leaping to Yuuri despite how hard he worked to prevent it. He couldn’t help but imagine Yuuri’s disappointment in seeing someone draped over Viktor.

Even though Yuuri was crystal clear in not being interested.

Viktor knows that they’re both waiting.

For what? He has no idea.

If it were up to Viktor they’d already be married or at least engaged. Viktor laughs, shaking his head free of such crazy thoughts.

“I know that face.” Yuri stalks up to him, leering. There’s a half empty cup of alcohol in his hands and more than a few cups on his breath. “You’re thinking about _him._ ”

“Who?”

“Katsuki,” hisses Yuri, “You’re thinking about him.”

“I am,” agrees Viktor, slinging an arm around Yura. Yuuri wouldn’t mind. In fact, Viktor has the niggling feeling that Yuuri would approve and purr at Viktor’s actions. The thought of the omega purring makes Viktor giddy. “Lilia invited him to the autumn feast. I was trying to imagine what dress he’d wear.” Viktor sidled closer, “Maybe something backless? Or would we prefer a plunging neckline. Hmm.”

Yuri shoves him away, growling, eyes already red-rimmed.

Viktor had only meant to tease Yuri about his crush but apparently, it was a tender spot. “Yura. . .”

“Fuck off.” Yuri threw his drink at Viktor and stalked off, his dark mood coming off in waves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> : In case you haven't read the tags (please read the tags?!?!) this is going to end up poly between the Yuris and Viktor, it's not a love triangle. Please read the tags! I try to be as frugal with them as possible so they are easy to read. I know some people go crazy with them but I do not. If it's tagged it's because it's an important trigger or squick someone might want to avoid, like mpreg or domestic violence. To everyone who has left me an enthusiastic and wonderful comment: Thank youuuuuuuuu ☆⌒(≧▽° )


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not dead!  
> Hello again after so long!
> 
> Also, I rewrote a bunch of the earlier chapters to make them better. The big things are still the same though I would recommend rereading.

“You’re _really_ falling for him,” said Chris with a laugh, his voice tiny and tinny through the speaker of the office phone.

Viktor groaned, carefully laying out the last set of photographs, Yuuri would be here soon and he wanted everything to be ready. If they finished early enough, Yuuri might agree to a late lunch/ early dinner.

It had been a few days since Otabek’s party and unfortunately, Yuri’s mood had not improved with the departure of his best friend.

“You haven’t stopped singing his praises about how nice he was to Yura last week.”

“ _No_ ,” corrected Viktor, “I keep _complaining_ that he’s too nice to Yura. Although Yura _is_ behaving better. Around Yuuri anyway. I’m actually surprised. I think that dinner changed something for Yura. Maybe he fell in love?”

Chris snorted, “Yura’s too young to know what real love is. But Katsuki can _cook?_ Honey, you put a rock on him right the fuck now.”

Viktor snickered. “I told you. He’s not interested. And I’m not that creep that’s going to be _monitoring_ him to see if he changes his mind.”

“Ahh,” cooed Chris fondly, “So respectful.”

“Ah, I see him coming. I’ll—”

“Wait!” cried Chris, “I want to ask him something.”

“Wh— _No_.”

“It’s about work. I swear!”

Viktor pinched the bridge of his nose. “Okay. I’m trusting you. . .”

Yuuri knocked on the glass door before poking his head in.

“Yuuri you don’t have to knock,” Viktor laughed fondly, waving him in.

Yuuri shuffled inside, carrying a heavy duffel bag that he set down on a chair. Viktor watched Yuuri smooth a hand over his stomach and then approach the table.

“YUURI!” shrieked Chris.

Viktor dove for the phone, heart racing. “I told you to behave!” He yelled into the receiver. He would have hung up on his friend had Yuuri not burst out laughing. “I’m sorry, my _friend_ is a rude brat.”

Yuuri collapsed onto a chair, hand over his heart. “I see.” He was flushed from being outside, the red from his cheeks fading slowly. Viktor’s heart tugged pleasantly at the sight. “Was there a reason for scaring the shit out of me?”

Viktor smiled and returned the receiver into the cradle. “You’re on speaker again, Chris.”

“Yuuri Katsuki! What an absolute pleasure! Viktor hasn’t stopped singing your praises—”

Blushing pink, Viktor muted Chris. “Sorry! My friend Chris Giacometti. He’s terrible!” Viktor yelled the last part at the phone.

Yuuri was fighting a smile, putting Viktor more at ease. “I have a whole office dedicated to you,” admitted Yuuri, his lovely scent turning a shade embarrassed. “I won’t blackmail you if you won’t blackmail me?”

“Very well, a truce.” His facade broke when they shook hands, and they giggled at each other. He unmuted Chris. “You’re _still_ on speaker.”

“Mute me again and I’ll hang up,” threatened Chris, but then his voice turned sugary, “Yuuri, baby, is Viktor behaving himself?”

Yuuri smothered his laugh at Viktor’s obvious desire to hang up on Chris. “Uhm, yes. This might be a dumb question but are you _that_ Christophe Giacometti from KAZU designers?” Yuuri looked over at Viktor in excitement and received a nod in affirmation along with a fond smile.

“Yes,” purred Chris, “That’s me. I was very surprised to hear that Viktor somehow managed to snag _the_ Yuuri Katsuki who designed the lingerie for Eleanor Viv’s _Mists of Death_ 2015 collection. Imagine my surprise and delight to hear you were in Russia and _working_ after more than a year of silence!”

“A s-sabbatical,” stammered Yuuri, the happiness draining out of his stomach into cold dread, “I needed the rest.”

“Of course,” said Chris, easily. “Well. I just wanted to say hello and to offer my congratulations on your return _and_ on getting Viktor’s ass in gear again. You know he’s been lagging the past few years. Well ta-ta.”

They were left in silence.

Viktor couldn’t meet Yuuri’s eyes, but when he forced himself to look up. Yuuri had his head bowed, hands folded over his stomach again, it was a curious habit. He cleared his throat. “I have a confession to make.”

Yuuri lifts his gaze, silently questioning.

“I was going to quit the industry by now. I was going to do one last photoshoot for Yakov and then hightail it to... I don’t know... Mexico or China or something.”

Yuuri’s mouth fell open. “You were going to leave? Why?”

Viktor looks away, embarrassed by his shallow reasons, “I was tired. I’m sure you expect me to have a dramatic reason or at least something important but. . .” Viktor trailed off, unsure how to phrase that his heart was too heavy to keep dragging around, pretending he was happy.

“You don’t need to explain it to me,” said Yuuri quickly, “I’m the last person to judge you about something like that.” He gave a nervous laugh. “Do you want coffee? Or something?” asked Yuuri hesitantly, he was already getting up, digging in his bag for his wallet. “Let’s get out of the office.”

Viktor appreciated the kindness. “That sounds nice.”

Neither of them had put on their outer coats so they had to stand outside the coffeeshop shivering in thin sweaters until the line thinned out.

Yuuri was shivering so hard that his glasses were bouncing down the bridge of his nose. “

“U-uhm...” Viktor stepped closer to Yuuri, feeling his back muscles clench up with the slight breeze that worked its way through his sweater. “Can I ask why you decided to come here instead of somewhere else? Was it having Minako?”

“Partly,” said Yuuri, “I knew she would support me, would understand that I couldn’t go home.”

Viktor’s piercing gaze focused that much more on Yuuri. Clearly swallowing the obvious question, he said, “But she’s not here now?”

“A business trip,” explained Yuuri, shaken by Viktor’s kindness and careful treatment. “She’ll be back. Soon.” He wondered how well Viktor would take the news of his pregnancy. Yuuri wished he could have kept his past with Ben under wraps. Yuuri was dreading the judgement of everyone knowing how weak and stupid he was. Especially Viktor’s disappointment.

“Hey,” said Viktor softly, concern in his eyes, hand brushing his arm.

Yuuri realized they were holding up the line. “Sorry!” Quickly he scurried forward stepping into the coffeeshop, gratefully filling their lungs of warm coffee smell.

Several people recognized Viktor and they spent a few minutes on introductions, Yuuri unable to ignore the bitter gazes and even more bitter scents. These people admired and wanted Viktor, their jealousy tasted cheap and shallow to Yuuri.

But Viktor seemed completely interested in them, smiling widely and promising to catch up on another day.

Discretely, Yuuri turned his head, grimacing as he grew nauseous.

“Sorry about that.” Viktor guided him away, hand on his arm. “Colleagues from another time. They’re always asking about my work, they’re nice but.” Viktor shrugged. “They can make friends with others.”

“They were jealous,” muttered Yuuri, stomach still turning unpleasantly.

Viktor laughed, tilting his chin up. “Yeah. It’s a little annoying but harmless since I know how to make them back off.” He fetched their coffee and tea for Yuuri, smiling when Yuuri tasted his and hummed in pleasure. “They’re part of the reason I wanted to quit.”

“They are?” Yuuri peered into the table where he saw them disappear.

“Not _them_ specifically,” said Viktor as they stepped back out. “People who think I’m a step on the ladder or even worse, a dumb bunny who only knows to sit pretty.” Viktor snorted.

“Ah.” Yuuri unconsciously stepped closer to Viktor as the sharp wind bit at their face and hands when they left the coffeeshop. “I see.”

Viktor nodded, warming up to the subject, “They thought I would dance to anything if only the price was right.” Viktor grinned a razor sharp smile, “I was tired of doing one thing over and over. I was tired of people thinking that was the beginning and end of me. Isn’t that stupid? A model tired of success.”

Yuuri felt his heart squeeze in sympathy, reaching out. Viktor had begun modeling professionally even before graduating from high school, but something changed once Viktor had grown into his body and _looked_ like an alpha. “You cut your hair when you were nineteen.”

Thrown at the new direction of their conversation and Yuuri’s lingering touch on his wrist, Viktor swallowed, suddenly hyperaware of how good Yuuri smelled.

“You cut your hair,” repeated Yuuri, “Before that it was an obsession to figure out what your secondary was. Most money was on omega.”

Viktor knew that. Yakov had tried to keep it from him but the gossip had reached him through malicious mouths. Although Viktor had laughed it off at the time, something in him had hardened. He’d started wearing expensive neutralizers. “So what did you place your money on?” He nudged Yuuri lightly.

“A-ah, I _was_ going to choose beta because you. . .Well I don’t know—” He stuttered to a halt, going bright red, “You were so pretty and graceful and I wasn’t like that at all, so you couldn’t be omega. And I had several friends who were alphas and they were all rough. Not like you at all.”

Viktor’s face softened into something nostalgic, he patted Yuuri’s back. “That’s very cute. You used logic to categorize me.”

“What else would I base my decision on? Oh.” Yuuri looked away, realizing other people had based their opinion on whether they wanted to fuck Viktor or be fucked. It must have been a blow. “You stopped wearing dresses too.”

“Sweet innocent Yuuri,” crooned Victor. “Don’t tell me you didn’t have your share of creeps.” Even as he said it, Viktor wanted to take back the words, knowing he’d only conjure up memories of Yuuri’s ex. “Eh, nevermind.”

Yuuri gave him a tight smile, “No worries. And no. I mean, I’m a nobody. I was never pretty or desirable.”

Viktor rolled his eyes, eliciting a grin from Yuuri.

“I’m _glad_ I got left alone! I got to concentrate on work.” Yuuri grimaced, “At least until Ben.”

“Your ex?” Viktor growled for only a second before swallowing, clearing his throat. He needed to change the subject, and fast. Just thinking about Yuuri’s ex, _Ben_ , made him want to crawl up the walls.

Yuuri beat him to it.

“Sorry to bring this up so suddenly but how is your aunt doing? It’s been a few days and you haven’t said anything else. Is she okay? Have you seen her? What did the doctors say?” Yuuri flushed, “Sorry. I’m nosy like no one else.”

Viktor opened his mouth to respond but couldn’t think of what to say. “As silly as it sounds, I haven’t gone to see my aunt.” Viktor looked away, nervous smile on his face.

“You haven’t?!”

“There’s just so much work to do,” said Viktor defensively, “We’ve got less than four weeks to put together a full shoot and it’s not like I know what I’m doing.” Viktor cringed at Yuuri’s ogling stare.

“Absolutely not,” said Yuuri firmly, “Come on.”

…….

……..

Victor’s aunt was in a small private hospital and it took a long time for them to find a parking space. Viktor got frazzled, almost rear-ending another car in their search for a spot.

“Sorry,” blurted Viktor, reaching out to squeeze Yuuri’s shoulder, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” said Yuuri, heart in his mouth, arms clamped over his stomach, “It’s okay. Look, there’s a spot.”

It was clear Viktor needed _something_ to hold on to, so when Yuuri climbed out of the car he wiped his sweaty hands dry and reached for Viktor’s hand, gripping tight. “You can do this,” he said quietly, releasing a calming scent. For both of them.

Viktor exhaled, his breath puffing up in a little cloud now that the sun was setting, “Let’s get you inside.”

At the entrance, Yuuri snagged a face mask, to protect himself and Her.

Looking for a distraction, Viktor focused on him. “Are you sick?”

“I get sick easily,” lied Yuuri.

Viktor took a step back, “Then we should go, I don’t want you risking—”

Yuuri dropped his hand and walked away, heading towards what he recognized as a family room. A place to rest and sit quietly. Yuuri could feel Viktor’s presence close on his heels, trailing after him.

“What are you doing?”

“Minako was married,” said Yuuri abruptly, taking a seat, “for about six years. His name was Shun. I started a game with my sister where I’d threaten to steal Shun from Minako, and Mari would say ‘Not if I steal him first’. Then we’d come up with all of these stupid elaborate plans that only teenagers make on how to seduce him. Minako thought it was the funniest thing in the world.”

Viktor reluctantly took the chair next to him.

“Then Shun got sick. The game turned into what crazy things we’d do to come up with a cure. Except it really wasn’t a game and only Shun laughed. Minako didn’t make it to Mari’s high school graduation because Shun was— he was dying. Except he pulled through and Mari pretended to be so _mad_.”

Yuuri laughed, wiping his eyes. “Six months after that Minako had an interview in another city, just a couple hours away, Shun wasn’t doing good but it was only a couple hours away. Everything would be okay.” Yuuri hunched over his knees, “Except it wasn’t. Minako. . . she didn’t even bury him. She just left.”

Viktor dabbed at his own eyes. “That’s awful.”

“She knew we’d take care of it. I don’t think she’s even been to the shrine.”

“Did she ever talk about it?”

“No,” said Yuuri after drying his face, “She and my mom had an awful argument because my mom tried to. . . Well it doesn’t matter. But it’s been years and Minako refuses to acknowledge any of it.”

“I’m afraid my aunt’s going to die,” whispered Viktor, tucking himself into a ball.

Yuuri touched his shoulder, “I’m right here.”

“Can you hold my hand?”

Viktor’s palm is sweaty, he doesn’t thread his finger’s through Yuuri’s, just clasps his palm.

“You’re not _really_ sick, are you?” Victor glances at the face mask.

“People wear these in Japan all the time, it doesn’t mean anything. I have a really cute one that’s a dog snoot.”

Viktor manages to smile, “You’re tricky to pin down Yuuri Katsuki.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ;)


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again!!! :D :)

Eventually they made their way to the fifth floor and down some hallways, Viktor growing quieter and quieter, his scent twisting in distress.

The smell of no-rinse body soap makes Yuuri nauseous; it’s the same here, in the US, and in Japan. The same limp mint taste coating the back of the throat, choking out unpleasant smells.

Viktor knocks quietly before stepping inside, tugging Yuuri along.

“Aunt?” Viktor feels like a child about to be scolded, voice catching when he realizes how many machines his aunt is hooked up to. “Aunt Imli?”

“Vitya!” Imli struggles to open her eyes but she smiles brightly, her voice a wisp. “My Vitya and a friend?” Her nose catches on Yuuri’s scent. She’s an older beta with laugh lines around her mouth and eyes, Viktor shares her same nose but her hair is grey instead of silvery.

“This is Yuuri Katsuki. A dear friend. How have you been? Sorry—”

Imli laughs and holds out a hand, squinting up at Viktor. “Come here, darling boy.”

He releases Yuuri’s hand and goes to his aunt. Viktor pulls up a chair to sit by Imli’s bed, bowing over her like a shield, scent seeping out of him.

“Viktor, do you want some coffee or tea?”

“Tea,” Victor twists to look up at him, grateful.

“Okay, and you Aunt Imli? Can you have something from the cafeteria?”

“Ah no,” she replied apologetically, “I’m afraid not, Vitya’s dear friend. Don’t worry. They’re keeping me off foods for the moment.”

Victor’s jaw clenches and Yuuri flees the room.

The cafeteria is like all hospital cafeterias and Yuuri has no trouble fetching two small carton cups of tea.

He dawdles at Aunt Imili’s door and when he doesn’t hear them speaking, enters.

Viktor has filled the small space with a protective scent, Yuuri’s nose twinges but the smell isn’t unpleasant. In fact, Yuuri feels his heart calm down. He approaches Viktor slowly, holding out the carton of steaming tea.

Imli is asleep, her wrinkled hand curled in Viktor’s. There’s a bleak look in his eyes.

“Viktor?”

Yuuri hands over the tea and leans his hip against the scratchy back of the hospital chair.

“Her gallbladder ruptured, and she waited too long to go the hospital. The infection reached her blood. They’re not sure about the extent of injuries.” Viktor sighed when Yuuri grasped his shoulder.

“I’m proud of you for coming to see her.”

Viktor crooks a sarcastic grin.

“I’m serious!” whispers Yuuri as loud as he can without waking Imli. “I’m the king of avoiding confrontation. I know how hard these things can be.”

“This tea is gross.” Viktor swishes the tepid liquid around, lip curling in distaste.

Yuuri sighed, “Yeah. . . I know.”

“We should let her rest.” Viktor kisses Imli’s cheek and shares a quiet farewell, brushing their cheeks together. “I’ll see you soon, Aunt.”

Yuuri steps back, embarrassed at intruding on such a private moment.

“Vitya’s dear friend will come too?” Imli’s whispery voice raises the hairs on Yuuri’s neck.

“Maybe, Aunt. I love you. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

Viktor guides Yuuri out, tossing his tea out as soon as they come across a trash can, he also plucks Yuuri’s tea out of his hands and tosses that too.

“I was going to try and drink that.” Yuuri said petulantly, “I paid money for it.” He doesn’t protest more than that because Viktor purses his lips, eyes searching the hallways for something.

Upon spotting a bathroom, Viktor veers off. “Ah, I’ll be right out.”

Yuuri finds a waiting area to wait.

And wait.

And wait.

After ten minutes Yuuri cannot come up with any more reasons why Viktor would _still_ be in the bathroom short of something very embarrassing or some injury. Heart scratching at his ribs in fear, Yuuri cracks the door open and flinches at the concentrated scent of grief in the small room, Viktor is leaning over the sink, head bowed over his locked arms.

His deep, even breathing is the only sign that he isn’t a statue. The bathroom reeks of Viktor’s grief, warning everyone away.

Yuuri takes a step in and locks the bathroom door behind him.

Viktor looks up at him, eyes marbled red, for only an instant before wrenching his head back down. “Sorry I was just—” He turns the faucet on, wetting his hands and quickly drying them. He keeps his head bowed.

Yuuri lets Viktor approach him, the alpha only stopping when Yuuri doesn’t budge. “I bet you’re very hungry. I know a good take out place with comfort food,” he reaches out with a trembling hand to smooth back Yuuri’s growing hair.

“Comfort food sounds perfect.” Yuuri unlocks the door and Viktor follows him out, Yuuri can feel the ghost of Viktor’s hands on his back.

When they make it to Viktor’s car, Yuuri waits until Viktor’s unlocked it before cutting him off. He grabs Viktor’s hand and opens the back door, pulling Viktor in after him.

They tumble into the back seat, Yuuri banging his ankle on the middle console that sticks out.

“What are you doing?” Looking bemused, Viktor settles on the seat but doesn’t pull the door closed. The car is small and cramped back here, forcing them to fold their knees to keep facing one other.

Yuuri reaches across him and tugs the door closed.

Viktor avoids his eyes, pretending to find something fascinating in the parking lot.

“We’re not in public anymore,” said Yuuri quietly, “It’s just me.”

Viktor shrugs, “I know it’s just you. Can we go now?”

He’s being stubborn, Viktor knows this and Yuuri knows this and they both know the other knows.

Viktor crawls into the driver’s seat. “Come on Yuuri, at least put on the seatbelt if you’re not going to sit shotgun.”

“No.” Yuuri sets his jaw and crosses his arms.

“What?” Viktor’s eyes are still red, the skin around his eyes inflamed and tender.

“No.”

Viktor mutters a curse under his breath. “I’m not going to sit here and cry on command just because you think it’d be good for me.”

“That’s not what I want,” said Yuuri bluntly, “What I don’t like is that you’re hiding, pretending you’re fine.”

Viktor hissed, “And that’s not what _you’ve_ been doing? We barely know one another!”

“I know but still—”

“But _still?_ ” Viktor huffs, turning his seat to stare at Yuuri, “Why do you even want to see me cry? Is this some weird fan fantasy you’re looking to fulfill?”

Yuuri’s eyes widen, something twists in his chest. It feels like rejection.

No; it feels worse than that because Viktor had requested for them to be friends.

And Yuuri had taken him at his word.

_Friends._

Yuuri should have known. Wordlessly, Yuuri buckles the seatbelt, eyes glued to his knees so Viktor can’t see how much that hurt. There’s a pressure squeezing his breaths down into shallow gasps.

Wordlessly, Viktor starts the car, pulling out of the cramped parking space.

Yuuri is surprised when Viktor stops in front of what looks like a take-out place, there’s a neon frog with a fuchsia pink tongue lolling out.

Viktor doesn’t give him time to protest, steps out of the car without a word.

The take-out place is busy and Viktor is gone almost half an hour for their food. Yuuri uses that time to cool his stupid impulse to cry. His jaw aches with the force of keeping his emotions and scent controlled. He gets into the passenger seat because sitting in the back is so childish.

He’s startled when the door opens, Viktor sliding in with a plastic bag of delicious-smelling containers.

Yuuri fumbles to pull his phone out, trying to pretend he hasn’t been swallowing dry sobs the entire time.

They sit in silence for a few minutes.

“I’m sorry,” says Viktor quietly, “What I said was unfair. And not true. I _know_ it’s not true.”

Like magic, the constant pressure on Yuuri’s throat disappears, “Don’t apologize. I know having family in the hospital is difficult.”

Viktor shakes his head, but Yuuri stops him. He doesn’t want Viktor to have a shadow of a doubt of what he meant. “I misspoke. What I meant to say was that you don’t have to pretend to be okay if you don’t want to. But if that’s what helps you, then I can do that too. We don’t have to talk about your aunt or how worried—or how you feel, but we _can_. If you want to.”

Yuuri takes a breath, “I realize that you have Yura. It was stupid of me to expect you to talk about something so personal with someone who you barely know.” Yuuri’s throat closed up because he’s just barely realizing he _wants_ to be close to Viktor. _Stupid._

But.

But Viktor knew only a fraction of how fucked up he was, but it was enough for Viktor to know Yuuri wouldn’t be a good friend, someone worthy of being known.

Yuuri’s eyes dropped lower, tears starting to leak out

“Oh crap, _Yuuri_.”

Yuuri takes a sharp breath that turns into a sob when Viktor reaches over to hug him.

“If you think,” says Viktor in a gross, snot-choked voice, “for a _second_ that I’ve ever talked about my problems with Yura then you need to walk home because Yura would literally try to kill me.”

Yuuri wraps his arms around Viktor, he tries to laugh because that’s what Viktor wants him to do but he just bursts out crying in earnest. “S-sorry—”

Viktor wishes he could punch himself in the mouth.

“Don’t apologize about crying—Ouch!” Viktor buries his face into Yuuri’s neck, laughing. “Don’t pinch me.”

“Hypocrite.” Yuuri felt snot dripping out of his nose onto Viktor’s very nice shirt and decided he didn’t care.

Viktor wished they were in the backseat so he could properly squeeze Yuuri’s tears out of him. “Now you know what a shitty friend I am,” murmured Viktor, tucking his face deeper into Yuuri’s neck. There’s still time to back out.”

“Not unless you stop buying me food that smells so good. Can we eat here? I swear I’m crying because of how hungry I am.”

Viktor leaned back, a small smile curling his lips. “Of course, Zaichik.”

....

....

When they reach Minako’s house Viktor gets out with Yuuri, hoping Yuuri wants to hug him again. The omega’s scent soothing his ragged emotions into something easier to handle, and apart from the sour tang of his bond with Ben, Yuuri smelled delicious. The ocean and crushed greenery, along with that weird sucrose aftertaste that made Viktor want to squish Yuuri and bring him gifts.

He’d never been so affected by someone’s scent.

Viktor shook himself from his weird alpha instincts to follow Yuuri to the door. He touches Yuuri’s shoulder. “Thank you. Really. I can’t remember the last time someone cared about me so much.”

Yuuri tipped his head up, humming in thought. “You hardly knew me when you helped me through one of Ben’s attacks.”

“Yes, well.” Viktor scratched his neck sheepishly, trying to think up of an excuse. “It was a good decision. I care about you.” He grew more nervous when Yuuri just squinted at him. “A-ah, you know! I’ve only had Yura and Chris as close friends and they’re both very weird. So this kind of caring, is similar because it’s weird?” He finished lamely, knowing it’s a stupid response.

Yuuri sighs in relief or disappointment. “I guess so. Thanks for dropping me off.”

“You’re very welcome. Yuuri. . .” Viktor took a step forward, then swayed back, eyes searching for something in Yuuri’s face. “Yuuri, I’m sorry. I should never have lashed out at you. I’m not asking for forgiveness, but I want you to know that I regret it.”

Tears gathered in Yuuri’s eyes once more. He blinked them back and smiled. “You’re nothing like my ex, okay?”

“That’s not it,” said Viktor, thin eyebrows drawing together in concern, “I’m not trying to compare myself to him. I don’t want to be the kind of man who is cruel to friends that are there for him, when they say things that are difficult to hear.” Viktor nods abruptly in farewell and walks down the porch steps, head buzzing with instincts demanding he go back up there and sweep Yuuri into his arms. Yuuri’s strange sweet aftertaste particularly sharp on his tongue.

“Ah, Viktor, wait!”

Viktor freezes, turning slowly.

“Thank you for caring at all. For everything that you’ve done for me. And don’t worry about the photoshoot! We’re going to get everything done, okay?”

Viktor laughs, “Sure, Yuuri. Davai!”

Yuuri nods seriously, “Davai.”


End file.
